


cold fire

by freewalrus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A love letter to Twilight, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Any tag you would give Twilight, Attempted Rape in Chapter 11, Ben Solo Has Issues, Ben Solo is a Mess, Ben will hate the child for a bit, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Elemental Magic, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Pregnancy with Human-Vampire Baby, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone is technically dead so let’s be clear about that, F/M, Family Secrets, Forks Washington, Foster Care, High School, Hopeless Devotion, Human/Vampire Relationship, I do not regret writing this, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's the Twilight Renaissance Baby, Life Bonds, Love at First Sight, Magical Pregnancy, Minor Character Death: Unkar Plutt, No Love Triangle, Possessive Behavior, Protective Ben Solo, Protective Rey (Star Wars), References to Past Dubcon Sex Rey had when she was 15, Repressed Emotions, Rey (Star Wars) is a Mess, Rey has a death wish, Rey is a product of her childhood, Reylo - Freeform, Smeyer’s weird interpretation of vampires, So much angst, Symptoms of mental health issues, Touch-Starved Reylo, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vampire Bites, Vampire Venom, Vampires, Vampires Mate for Life, Werewolves, Werewolves mate for life but there's no imprinting, Witches, but he will get better, but she will get better, found family trope, graphic childbirth, mentions of childhood neglect, mentions of domestic abuse, no sexual abuse, shameless twilight au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freewalrus/pseuds/freewalrus
Summary: ***FIC UNDERGOING MAJOR CHANGES. WILL BE UPDATED ASAP. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE!!!***Rey Johnson is seventeen when her life is uprooted by the sudden death of her foster father.She's months away from her eighteenth birthday when the system places her in the care of an eccentric old woman,  relocating Rey from the sprawling city of Phoenix to the gloomy town of Forks. There, she meets a family as beautiful as they are mysterious. Rumors hang around them like a storm cloud and her instincts scream danger. One catches her eye and try as she might, she can't stay away from him. Something ties Rey to this stranger, some impossible thing bigger than both of them. But she soon realizes dark secrets cling to him and his family. In Forks, everyone's hiding something. As Rey peels back the layers of deceit, she's thrown into a swirling world of magic and ritual, of monsters and demons, of terrible things that go bump in the night. Can she survive? After all, seventeen is too young to die....unless death isn't the worst thing that could happen to her.In short: A darker retelling of Twilight with Reylo.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Phasma, Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Finn/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Zorii Bliss/Poe Dameron
Comments: 430
Kudos: 505





	1. Hello and Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PLEASE READ THE TAGS! THIS FIC DEALS WITH A LOT OF DARK THEMES.**
> 
> A Reylo Twilight AU!
> 
> I have no idea what possessed me to write this, all I know is the idea came to me and I could not get it out of my head.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> *****I DON'T OWN THE RIGHTS TO STAR WARS OR TWILIGHT*****

_*cover inspired by the design of the twilight books._

_titular font is entitled 'twilight new moon' and belongs to the twilight franchise.*_

_Like angels—winged,_

_shimmering, misunderstood—_

_they flit beyond our understanding_

_being neither evil, nor good._

_They are as they are ..._

_and we are their lovers, their prey;_

_they seek us out when the moon is full_

_and dream of us by day._

_Their eyes—hypnotic, alluring—_

_trap ours with their strange appeal_

_till like flame-drawn moths we gather ..._

_to see, to touch, to feel._

_Held in their arms, enchanted,_

_we feel their lips, so old!,_

_till with their gorging kisses_

_we warm them, growing cold._

_—Michael R. Burch, “Like Angels, Winged”_

Unkar Plutt died in the house in which he’d been born, in the middle of an unusually hot October for Phoenix, Arizona.

His death had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with a lifetime of anger and inebriation. Striking swiftly, the heart attack gave him a more merciful death than he deserved. 

He died alone.

☾

Marina Weiss found her client curled up in a tiny chair outside the principal’s office.

The girl didn’t look like much. 

She was small and so tan she was red, with hazel eyes too big for her thin freckled face and lifeless chestnut hair that was probably too long. Faded clothing drowned her frame, but one too-skinny shoulder peeked out from the fraying neckline of her t-shirt. 

A chill washed over Marina as she took in the state of her charge.

This was a young woman who’d never seen the innocence of childhood.

Despite how many troubled teens she’d met, her heart always clenched at the sight of adult eyes in a child’s face. How someone could hurt anyone, much less a _child_ …But Marina was a professional. She fought the urge to throw her arms around the underfed figure, making do with a comforting smile. Children like this girl would rather die than be pitied. Or touched.

“Rey Johnson?” 

The girl raised her head and Marina winced. She was sporting a nasty split lip. 

The teenager’s voice was hoarse, like she’d been yelling. “What do you want?”

“I’m Marina Weiss. I’m the social worker assigned to your case.” She fumbled with her handbag, rummaging around until she found what she was looking for. “I have some cream for that.”

Marina extended the ointment she brought whenever she was assigned to cases like this one. 

It was in her bag more often than not.

Rey Johnson glanced at the small tube, but didn’t move. She raised an eyebrow at Marina and the message was as clear as if she’d spoken it: _I said, what do you want?_

Marina took a deep breath. “You were called to the office because...I’m so sorry, Rey. Your foster father passed away three hours ago.” Hating to end sentences on a bad note, she rushed to reassure the girl. “But there’s no need to worry. The state has already taken care of everything. We found a replacement extremely quickly…” 

Marina trailed off as she realized Rey Johnson wasn’t listening.

Staring off into the distance, the harsh lines of her face smoothed into a grin, she looked like the child she never got a chance to be.

☾

Later, Rey will only remember the next couple days in bursts of vivid color. 

The school-bus yellow of the plastic chair outside Principal Schaffer’s office;

The bright fuchsia nails Marina Weiss wore, always _tip-tapping_ on every surface; 

The dingy white walls in Plutt’s house as she stuffed her few belongings into

The faded blue of her backpack, left with her on _that_ day;

The dull tan, the muddy brown, the brassy gold of the Deputy’s uniform;

The washed-out burgundy of the police station couch;

The ashy grey of the blanket the Deputy gave her that she didn’t need because she ran hot, hot like the sun, hot like the desert, hot like Arizona;

The pitch black of the crappy coffee they’d given her while they informed her she would be leaving the only place she’s ever known;

The clear nothingness of her tears smearing her surroundings into a rainbow kaleidoscope while she begged them not to send her away—

_—_ there’s nothing for her here but _it’s all she’s ever known, just a few more months until she’s eighteen_ —

The crimson clutch of the fear, the dread of the unknown, the worry over what the future could bring;

The imperial navy of the airplane seat, the first airplane she’d been on;

And then—

Green.

Green like she’d never seen it before,

Green like life, 

Like hope maybe—

Not the sparse army green of the desert, of Phoenix, of Arizona, 

But the emerald, rain-soaked green of the Olympic Peninsula, of Forks, of Washington. 

“I didn’t know this much green could exist all in one place.” Rey smashed her nose against the car window, straining to see the forest through the deluge. 

“It’s not surprising, considering how _wet_ it is here,” grumbled Marina. 

Rey glanced toward her and stifled a laugh. The blonde’s usual beach waves had lost their shape and hung in heavy, straight curtains.

Aware of her resemblance to a drowned cat, Marina jabbed the heat button with more force than necessary and leaned closer to the vent in a vain attempt to return her hair to its normal California splendor. 

Rey let her fuss, turning her attention back to the forest looming over the winding road. 

The branches of the ancient spruces seemed to brush the thunderclouds. Each tree was unique, even though they grew so close together that their branches intertwined. A dark green labyrinth, the forest filled her with a great sense of foreboding. 

Not like the desert. She loved that flat, cracked land with all her heart. Loved it because there was nowhere to hide. 

Who knew what secrets the Olympia spruces held in their gnarled trunks?

She sighed, missing the dry heat. Marina had warned her that Forks would be cold and wet, but she hadn’t believed it until they’d stepped off the plane into an underwater world. 

_Ugh._

Rey despised the cold. She detested the rain, the snow— any weather that wasn’t hot and sunny. The absence of sun and warmth made everything dismal. 

And her life was dismal enough. 

“How much longer?” She asked.

“Not far now.” Marina tilted her head, running nimble fingers through her tangled hair. “You’ll like this new home, Rey. Maz Kanata passed every requirement with flying colors. And she told me she grows and sells her own produce in her retirement. Isn’t that fascinating, Rey? Maybe if you asked _nicely_ , she could teach you. You could become an amateur gardener!”

“I don’t want to be a gardener.”

Marina heaved a world-weary sigh, a sound Rey excelled in producing from her. “I’m deeply sorry about what happened to you.”

Rey stiffened. 

“I know it doesn’t make the pain go away, but I _am_ sorry. The police are sorry. The state is sorry. Everyone that should have helped you and didn’t is sorry. But it’s over now. He’s dead and I promise you that this new home will not be like that. _I promise you_. So, try. Okay, Rey? Don’t act the way you did in Phoenix.” Her gaze slid to Rey’s healing lip in a way that was about as subtle as hammer. “Try to make this work. Even if it’s only for a couple months.”

Rey bit her lip so hard she almost reopened the wound. _How fucking dare you? You know nothing. Sorry doesn’t cut it._

“Okay, Rey? Promise me you’ll try to be nice?”

She stayed silent.

“Rey? Promise?”

Marina’s blue eyes were wide and earnest, the eyes of a person who, despite plenty of evidence to the contrary, still believed in the inherent goodness of humanity. 

Rey suddenly felt a thousand years old. 

She nodded once and switched on the radio. An old rock song blared through the speakers. Satisfied, she turned the volume all the way up.

Marina took the hint and they didn’t speak the rest of the drive.

☾

From the outside, Maz Kanata’s house was nothing like Plutt’s. 

The paint wasn’t chipped. The shutters weren’t broken. The bushes in the front yard were trimmed to perfection. There was a driveway and a two-car garage. It looked like every upper middle-class American house. 

She didn’t know whether to be afraid or relieved. 

Marina parked in the driveway and glowered at the rain. “I was hoping it would have cleared up by the time we got here.” 

Her hair was half dry, on its way to frizzy. This had put Marina in a bad mood. Well, a bad mood for Marina, which anyone else would consider a bright and chipper mood.

The social worker gave what Rey thought was supposed to be an encouraging smile, but it came out a grimace. “Well, no use in delaying the inevitable, right?”

Rey grabbed her backpack and stepped out into the pouring rain. She slammed the car door shut, not bothering to wait for the blonde woman behind her, before rushing to the front door.

_No use in delaying the inevitable._ Maz Kanata would be like Plutt or she wouldn’t. There was no in-between.

Rey raised her fist and knocked on the mint green door.

As she waited for an answer, she noticed wind chimes of all shapes, sizes, and colors dangled from the porch ceiling. In the storm, they came alive, clinking together cheerfully despite the depressing atmosphere.

Marina joined her, wiping raindrops from her designer bag. “I hope the water doesn’t ruin the leather,” she fretted and the door sprang open just as Rey rolled her eyes.

“That look better not be for me,” said her foster mother.

Rey cleared her throat. “Um, no ma’am.”

Marina pushed past Rey, professionalism taking over. “Hi, Maz Kanata? Marina Weiss, we spoke on the phone.”

Maz Kanata, a stout woman draped in what looked like a sheet of bright orange linen, accepted Marina’s hand with her own heavily ringed one. However, her deep brown eyes, enlarged by the giant spectacles on her nose, didn’t stray from Rey’s. Rey, who was uncomfortable being the subject of attention, took a sudden and extreme interest in the many layers of crystal necklaces the woman wore.

“This is Rey Johnson!” Marina presented her like a trophy. 

“Hello,” she said, her sullen tone barely audible over the rain. 

Maz smiled. “Come in, come in. It’s dreadful out here.” She waved them inside, disappearing into the kitchen. “I made tea. Sit down in the living room, my dears. Don’t worry if you’re damp, a little rainwater never hurt anybody.” 

Marina entered the house first, wiping the mud from her heels on Maz’s doormat. After watching her closely, Rey followed suit, hovering on the threshold longer than the social worker had.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Marina gushed as she headed down the hallway into what Rey assumed was the living room, believing her client to be right behind her.

Rey’s sneakers were glued to the doormat. 

Marina’s back was turned, the rental car abandoned in the driveway. She’d learned how to drive when she was fourteen and had known how to hot-wire a car since she was eleven.

It was almost too easy.

Hardly daring to breathe, Rey began to edge out the open door. 

Marina poked her head back into the hallway. “Hey, what are you still doing down there? Aren’t you cold?”

_Fuck._

“Sorry,” she said and made a show of scraping her left shoe across the mat. “There’s a tough bit of mud.”

Marina beckoned her, “I’m sure it’s fine. Come meet Ms. Kanata.”

Cursing internally, Rey trudged to where Marina stood and let the woman lead her to apricot-colored couch. Perching on the edge and pulling her backpack around to her lap, she glanced around the spacious living room.

Marina was right. The house _was_ nice. 

It was in no way opulent, but the living room had a fireplace and the kitchen was in a separate room. There was a lived-in feel about the place, like Maz Kanata had picked out every picture, every piece of furniture, every book on the shelf, with the utmost care. 

But Rey knew that just because something _looked_ nice didn’t mean it actually was.

A rustle from the right where the living room turned into the kitchen, and Maz Kanata emerged, carrying a tea tray. She placed it on the coffee table and took the top off the sugar dish, asking Marina, “How many?”

“Three, please.” Marina’s wide smile hadn’t faltered since her foster mother opened the door.

Rey thought how tiring it must be to constantly pretend that everything was alright. That seemed to be what most of Marina Weiss’ job entailed.

Rey expected Maz Kanata to ask her about sugar next, but the woman moved to Rey’s side.

“Let me take a good look at you, child,” she said, her hands outstretched. 

Internally, Rey made a face. She hated being touched. Especially by someone she'd just met. 

Conscious of Marina’s eyes boring a hole into the back of her head, she let her foster mother’s hands envelop her own and while the older woman peered into her soul with those bug-like eyes, Rey peered back.

Maz Kanata was old. Her dreadlocks cascaded down her back in a waterfall of gray-white and the backs of her hands were veined with age. Strange then, how the wrinkles on her face seemed more like laugh lines than signifiers of old age and the firmness with which she held Rey’s fingers hinted at a lifetime of working with her hands. Despite her white hair and the creases in her brown skin, the old woman was somehow ageless. 

Her dark eyes, brimming with a sharp wisdom, were the only indication that the woman had indeed lived as long as the color of her hair suggested.

“Ah,” Maz said, as if her shrewd eyes had found the answer to some elusive, ancient question in Rey’s face. She waited for her foster mother to mention Rey's busted lip (Marina had not shut up about it), but t he old woman nodded to herself and dropped Rey's hands, humming a tune unfamiliar to both the girl and the social worker.

As Maz moved away, Rey glanced over at the blonde with a raised brow. Marina just shook her head.

Maz Kanata was…idiosyncratic. To put it nicely. 

Unaware of what passed between the social worker and her charge, Maz handed Rey the second mug of tea. 

She didn’t realize how cold she was until heat seeped into her fingertips. 

“No sugar, right?” The old woman winked.

Rey could only nod, bewildered by this tiny, timeless woman with eyes like microscopes.

Marina clapped her hands together. “Ms. Kanata, I believe there are some papers that need to be signed. Would it be alright if Rey got settled in while we chatted?"

Maz gave her another warm smile. "Your room is the first on the right at the top of the stairs.”

Rey stood, abandoning the undrunk tea. She knew the two women wanted to discuss her in private. She wasn’t stupid. 

As she left, she heard Marina Weiss whisper words like _abuse_ and _neglect_.

She gripped the straps of her backpack until her knuckles turned white.

Rey climbed the carpeted stairs. Turning right, she found the door to the room that would be hers already open. 

She paused. There must have been a mistake. This spacious room couldn’t be _hers_.

There was a wardrobe _and_ a dresser. A desk was tucked away in the corner, on which rested a laptop and a cell phone. The bed was made with a thick down comforter, the mattress queen-sized.

Rey collapsed on the bed, clutching her backpack to her chest as if one wrong move would dissipate the illusion. Sleep gathered her in a warm embrace. 

Her last thought was how great it felt to have a pillow.

☾

The smell of food woke her as abruptly as an alarm clock.

Her stomach grumbled as she rose, bleary from the best nap of her life, and headed downstairs into the kitchen.

For a second the forest was inside the house, but Rey blinked away the last bits of sleep to find that plants lived on every available surface. 

Dried herbs hung from the ceiling rack, little succulents squatted along each windowsill, and several vining species were arranged artfully in the center of the kitchen table. Marina sat in front of them, nursing another cup of tea while Maz bustled between the oven and the counter. The social worker looked up and started to see her client hovering at the threshold. 

Rey had a habit of sneaking up on people, through no fault of her own. Plutt had never liked the sound of her footsteps, her breathing, probably even the beats of her heart. And so she’d learned to be invisible. 

She would have felt bad for startling Marina, if it was something she had control over. But her invisibility was second nature, not something she could turn off, not something she consciously thought about anymore.

“Rey! Did you sleep well?”

Rey slid into the chair next to Marina, laser focused on the family-size lasagna Maz was placing on the stovetop. “Yes,” she replied absently. “May I have a slice?”

Maz chuckled as she brought three plates down from the cupboard. “Child, you can eat as much as you want.”

And Rey did.

She gobbled down the cheesy pasta goodness while Maz and Marina chattered about Forks. When her waistband grew tight and the buttons cut into her abdomen, she didn’t stop. She heaped another generous portion onto her plate.

“Rey,” Maz began, pushing a glass of water toward her in a gentle reminder to _breathe_. “I’m sure Ms. Weiss has told you I’ve enrolled you in our local high school. You start on Monday and it’s a walk away and since it’s getting cold out...well, when my husband died, he left behind a truck. Ms. Weiss told me you have your license and I thought you could have it.”

“Don’t you need it?” The words were unrecognizable around her giant bite of lasagna. 

“Rey!” Marina admonished. “Finish swallowing before you speak! And don’t be rude.”

Shrugging, she shoved in more food, too impatient to wait the eternity for her body to swallow the pieces already in her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

Maz watched her eat. “No, I don’t need it. I have my own car and I don’t really get out anymore, except to go to the grocery store and drop off deliveries.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “Although, come to think of it, the truck may need some fixing. It didn’t run in the last years of my husband’s life and all it’s done is collect rust since he passed. Do you know anything about cars, Rey?”

To her mortification, tears prickled her eyes.

Plutt owned an auto shop. It was where she’d spent most of her life, discovering the ins and outs of vehicles. He’d worked her until her fingers bled and she’d never seen one penny for her effort, but she hadn’t mind. Her brain quieted when she fixed broken machines. It was the only thing that had kept her somewhat sane all those awful years in Phoenix. 

To have anything given to her was a miracle in itself, but to have a car that needed fixing was a blessing. “Yes,” she choked out, “I do.”

A glob of tomato sauce landed on her jeans. Marina wrinkled her nose and reached for the napkins, but Rey didn’t care. She was going to have her own _car._

Maz looked satisfied. “Good. You’ll have to borrow my bicycle until it’s fixed, but that won’t be a problem. A kid named Poe Dameron runs the only auto shop in Forks and, don’t tell him I said this, but he’s mighty good at what he does. Shouldn’t take too long to fix the truck and then it’s all yours.”

Another thought popped into her mind. Rey put down her fork and swallowed. “I saw... in my room, there’s a laptop and a cell phone?”

“All yours.”

Everything was too much all of a sudden, the house, the bed, the truck— she wasn’t used to such kindness. Tears threatened to fall, so Rey speared another enormous bite of lasagna into her mouth. “Thank you,” she mumbled, unable to meet Maz’s eyes.

“You’re welcome, child.”

☾

One hour later, Marina Weiss got behind the wheel of the rental car and backed out of Maz Kanata’s driveway, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

There was not a lot of joy in the job she’d chosen, but every once in a while, the stars aligned.

She was not religious, not anymore, but there on a lonely night road in a small, insignificant town, she prayed for the scrappy girl in the yellow chair to find happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of this fic, all characters are American unless stated otherwise.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/). Come bully me for writing this!


	2. The Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Rey is not actively suicidal, but she doesn't really have a will to live. This, along with mentions of the domestic abuse she suffered, will be a common theme throughout the story. Please be aware that every chapter will contain hints of this and I'll only have a warning where more graphic events/thoughts are mentioned.**

An unfamiliar weight crushes her sternum.

She jolts awake, finding a matted ball of orange fur to be the culprit. 

“Excuse me,” she croaks, prodding it. 

The cat opens its eyes blearily, blinking in the animal equivalent to confusion. Like it’s a perfectly normal thing for it to be in Rey’s bed, cuddling with her, and it’s wondering why she woke it so rudely. 

Burying its face underneath Rey’s chin, it rubs back and forth. A loud purr vibrates through its large body. Rey has no idea what the normal size of a house-cat is, but this one has to be well above the average.

In Phoenix, all the cats in her neighborhood had been soft, round in the middle. The people who lived there never had enough food for themselves, but that didn't stop them from overfeeding their pets. The cat crushing her windpipe is clearly loved with the same devotion, but it doesn't have the look of a pet. The spiked nature of its fur reminds Rey of the alleycat who fished for scraps at the dump. And it's too muscular, like someone shrunk a panther and dyed it orange. 

Despite the unsettling wildness of the animal, she doesn’t have the heart to dislodge it, even though its resting place happens to be her vital organs.

She heaves a sigh.

Glancing out the window, she's met with the thrilling absence of rain. _Yes_.

Even though it's not raining, the sunlight is watery at best. Everything is still too dark, too damp, and far, far too green. She might as well have landed on a foreign planet.

There’s a knock on her doorframe.

She frowns. She’d left the door ajar. Why is Maz knocking?

Plutt always thought she was up to no good. He hated when she closed herself in any room but the bathroom. Sometimes he hit her, sometimes he yelled. It was impossible to avoid both. Instead, she'd learned to do whatever she could to diminish the number of punishments.

Leaving doors open was the first habit cemented in her brain, and even though she thought she could trust Maz, today was a new day. 

Rey was wary of new days. So quickly could seemingly constant truths be contested by the rising sun.

“Come in.”

Maz sticks her head in. “Good morning!” 

Her brow creases when she sees Rey’s furry companion. “Oh, Bebe.”

She tsks, leaning down to lift the cat from Rey, ignoring its mew of protest, and bringing it up to eye level by the scruff of its neck.

She waggles a wrinkled finger in its face. “I thought we agreed that we would introduce you to Rey together.”

Rey sits up. “It would have been nice to have some warning.”

“I apologize, child. He usually sleeps in my room.” Maz looks at her cat in sudden confusion. “It's odd that he came to you. Bebe's not friendly.” When she glances back at Rey, there’s a newfound respect in her giant bespectacled eyes, as if Rey were a different person than she’d been last night. “I’ll put him outside if he makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“Well, get dressed and come downstairs then. Breakfast is ready.”

As if someone had flipped a switch, Rey could suddenly smell the mouthwatering aroma drifting up from the kitchen.

She takes a deep breath, relishing the moment. So far, this is her favorite thing about her new foster home— how the smell of food creeps up through the floorboards and permeates every inch of the house. 

Maybe it’s a common thing, but how would Rey know? She’s never cooked. Unkar Plutt lived on McDonald’s breakfasts and Hungry Man dinners.

She thinks she could sit in this too comfortable bed and breathe in the scent of actual food for the rest of her life.

Her eyes shoot open. “Pancakes?” She inhales again. “Bacon?”

Maz laughs, a rich sound that comes from the marrow of her bones. “Get dressed and come down,” she repeats.

On her way out, Maz begins to reprimand Bebe in a stern voice. The effect of her words is diminished by the fact that she strokes the top of his shaggy head.

Rey can’t get ready fast enough.

She throws back the covers and bounds out of bed, thankful for the carpeted floor against her bare feet. It’s October, fall has barely begun, and yet she feels a chill in the air that wasn’t present in Phoenix. If the current climate is a sign of the coming months, winter in Forks is going to be miserable. 

She better get used to it. She doesn’t turn eighteen until January.

Rey pauses along with this new train of thought. She’s going to have to come up with a plan for when she becomes legal. No way Maz wants to be saddled with a traumatized orphan for longer than she has to be. 

But what could Rey do, where could she go? She’s not getting into college with her grades as shit as they are, and, even if she wasn’t flunking, she’s not sure she would even _want_ a degree. She pales at the thought of the loans she would have to take out if she ever changed her mind. 

She has no family, no money, no prospects. Her future stretches out before her, as bleak and barren as the desert she was born in.

Shoving all thoughts of her future from her mind, she strips and tosses her pajamas in the hamper. Another thing she would have to get used to: not crumpling her dirty clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor. She moves to her dresser and opens the cedar-wood drawers, still shocked at the sight that unfolds beneath her.

Besides the truck, the laptop, and the cell phone, Maz had also gifted Rey with a variety of outfits.

When Marina had called ahead to make sure everything was in order, she’d asked after Rey’s sizing. The old woman had then gone and stuffed Rey’s wooden dresser and wardrobe with any article of clothing she could need. There were at least five pairs of brand-new jeans and shirts in every style and color. Maz had filled the pinewood cabinets near overflowing with warm coats and thick sweaters. 

Rey now has a winter jacket and a raincoat, fuzzy socks and floppy beanies, sneakers without holes, and rain boots, in addition to hiking boots. She even has a drawer full of underwear, including bras that don’t have the underwire poking out. They don’t quite fit right, but none of her bras have ever fit right. She’s just relieved to not be prodded by metal. Besides, it’s not like her boobs are huge, so support doesn’t really matter. Most of the time she goes bra-free.

She'd assumed that Marina must have gone through her backpack to learn her sizes when she was asleep. On any other occasion, Rey would have bristled at the invasion of privacy, but she’d felt only immense gratitude. She would never have to wear dirty underwear again.

She’d turned to Maz, guilt pouring out of her. “This is too much, I can’t accept this.”

Maz had looked Rey dead in the eye, a seriousness about her that brokered no argument. “It’s nothing more than you deserve.”

She’d left to let Rey change and take a shower, ordering her to leave all her Phoenix clothes on the stairs. When Rey had asked why, Maz had responded, “So I can burn them.”

Rey had no attachments to her clothing, ratty and dotted with old blood and food stains as they were. Even if that wasn’t the case, her shorts and tank tops would serve no purpose in this cold, rainy place. She’d handed them over without complaint.

After showering and dressing in a pair of red flannel pajamas, Rey had looked out her window into Maz’s backyard. The sight of a bonfire had greeted her, and she’d watched as her foster mother fed the hungry blaze with all that was left of the past fourteen years. 

Rey had felt nothing but a deep-seated satisfaction.

Somewhere in Arizona, Unkar Plutt’s body was being similarly burned. Disintegrating, like her clothes, into nothing more than ashes.

_Ashes cannot hurt me._

Now, Rey selects a comfortable pair of black fleece-lined leggings and a dark green henley. She tugs the fabric on, marveling at the softness, unused to the idea that clothing could be comfortable.

She rolls on a pair of thick grey socks before sheathing her feet in her new pair of hiking boots. They're stiff— she's sure her toes and heels will be covered in blisters by the end of the day.

Reaching for the frayed hair tie on her wrist, she yanks her hair back into a ponytail. After brushing her teeth and slapping deodorant on, she runs down the stairs into the kitchen.

Her stomach growls at the spread Maz has arranged.

In the center of the kitchen table, heaped on a terracotta platter, are the fluffiest chocolate chip pancakes. The platter is framed by a large plate of bacon and a gigantic bowl of fresh fruit. A pitcher of orange juice rests next to a smaller pitcher of maple syrup. The kettle boils on the stove, sending the aroma of freshly brewed coffee into the air.

“Can I?” She indicates toward one of the empty place settings.

Maz laughs her deep laugh. “Child, you don’t have to ask to eat.”

If something tight unwinds in Rey’s chest at that, she doesn’t let it show. Sitting down, she loads an ample portion of everything onto her plate.

Maz sets a steaming mug in front of her. “I’m more of a tea person myself, but something tells me you’re a black coffee kind of girl.”

Rey can only nod, her mouth overflowing with food. A line of maple syrup dribbles down her chin and Rey wipes it away with the back of her hand. 

The old woman takes her place across from Rey. She eats slowly and delicately, in direct contrast with the way Rey greedily shoves in every morsel, unaware of her noisy slurping.

“What would you like to do today?” Maz sips her tea from a wide mug. Like every dish in the house, it’s made from clay. Though the pieces of Maz’s collection are beautiful, they don’t have the appearance of objects perfected by machinery. They look handmade. Some are painted in bright colors, like the mug Maz drinks from, but most are only glazed, glossing the natural dark brown of the clay. Eying the stitching of the light blue tunic Maz wears, she wonders how many of the old woman’s possessions are handmade.

Weird. The woman could afford brand new things. Rey’s closet is proof of that. Why does Maz make everything herself when she has the means to buy it? She supposes it must be out of sheer love for the craft.

It takes Rey a second to swallow enough food to have space in her mouth to vocalize. “Since the rain cleared up, I thought I’d hike.” 

Hiking through the desert was her only reprieve from Plutt and her pathetic life. 

She would never go too far, despite the little voice in the back of her head that whispered how _easy_ it would be to walk until she collapsed. She would rather die in the desert, on her own terms, then die by Plutt’s hand. Why she never took the obvious out, Rey can’t articulate.

Hiking had become the balm to all distress. It’s only logical that, alone in a strange place, it’s what she would turn to. 

“And then take a look at the truck if I get back in time.” She adds.

Her fork pauses on its roundabout flight to her mouth. Would Maz want to spend time with her? Or would she have chores for Rey to do? She hadn't mentioned anything, but with Plutt there was always something... “Unless, um, you have something planned?”

Maz shakes her head and the colorful clay beads in her dreads catch the sunlight. “Oh no, no. Go. I want you to do anything you want.”

Another kindness she’s not sure she deserves. “Are you sure? I could...clean the kitchen or—”

Maz looks offended. “I’ll never ask you to do anything I can’t do myself, child. You’re a teenager. Go out and explore.”

“What will you do?”

“I have plenty of stuff to busy myself with around here, what with my little produce and herbs business.”

Rey spears a lush strawberry on her fork. “You grew this?”

“I grow virtually everything I eat,” Maz says, pride coloring her words. 

Rey pops the fruit in her mouth, moaning in delight as sweetness explodes across her tongue. “How do you keep the plants growing through winter?”

Maz’s eyes twinkle as she taps a finger to the side of her nose. “A magician never reveals their secrets.”

☾

After breakfast, she heads to the front door, pulling on her brand-new denim jacket. Bebe’s waiting on the doormat, his striped tail twitching as he watches her approach.

“Rey! The forest is beautiful, but just because something’s beautiful doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous.” Maz has that serious air about her again, like what she’s saying is a matter of life and death. She peers at Rey over the tops of her glasses. “Be careful and be back before sundown.”

Rey resists the urge to scoff. What could be hiding in the trees that could scare her? Wild animals? Vicious beasts? She’s lived through what feels like all the horrors of humanity. She would welcome the fangs of a mountain lion if it would erase the memory of Plutt’s fist slamming against her skull. 

“Do you have your cell phone?”

“Yes.” Rey taps the pocket where the silver device protrudes. 

“All right. See you later. Have fun.” Maz disappears back into the kitchen.

Rey reaches for the door handle. Bebe rears up onto his hind-legs, fitting his paws around her hand and emitting a sharp yowl.

“Uh, Maz?” Rey calls. “I think your cat wants to go out.”

“Let him!”

She opens the door and the animal shoots out, a streak of orange vanishing into the bushes across the street. 

She steps out onto the porch, wincing at the temperature. It isn’t freezing, but there’s a certain crispness to the air. A gust of wind rattles Maz’s wind-chimes and gives Rey a slight shiver, prompting her to button her jacket.

She misses the Arizona heat. It was hell to most people, especially in the summer when temperatures skyrocketed upwards of a hundred degrees, but Rey had always liked the pounding of the sun on her bare shoulders, the weight of the humid air in her lungs, the stickiness of her baby hairs against her nape, her forehead. She would get none of that in Forks.

Feeling colder all of a sudden, Rey jogs down the stairs and takes a left, finding herself at once on the edge of the woods. 

Maz’s home is the last house on the street, so there’s only a thin patch of grass stopping the forest from engulfing the house on two sides. A distance of maybe twenty feet separates Maz’s property from the tree-line.

She strides into the tangled green, her legs strong and sure.

The forest calls to her for the same reason the desert had— the illusion of freedom.

If she walks for long enough, she could convince herself that this is all life is. No foster parent, no pain, no despair, no crushing loneliness. Just the repetitive action of placing one foot in front of the other.

All Rey is guaranteed is herself. Herself, and the earth beneath her.

Her new boots squelch in the damp mud as the weak autumn sunlight filters through the towering trees. She looks around as she settles into the familiar rhythm of hiking, listening to the various birdsongs, the scratching of tree-dwelling creatures, the dull thrum as a woodpecker bores a hole in the trunk of a gigantic spruce. She trails her fingers along the rough bark below the bird.

Brown and orange leaves crunch under her feet. Another reminder of the fast- approaching winter.

With a heavy sigh, she breathes in the smell of fertile earth. Rain may not be falling now, but the air is still muggy from yesterday's storm.

The forest is the exact opposite of Phoenix.

The desert was the absence of life. In Forks, the abundance of living things, of green, is staggering.

The further in she walks, the denser the foliage becomes. The jutting twigs and fern leaves of the underbrush slap against her knees. Overhead the sun becomes obscured by a dense mat of interlacing branches as the spruces start to grow closer together. 

Rey’s thighs burn as the ground rises on an incline. She basks in the disagreeable feeling because it means that the forest is giving her what she wants— an escape from her mind. 

She walks until there’s only the sound of insects skittering under fallen logs.

She walks until there’s only the smell of wood and mud. 

She walks until the world only exists in swirls of dark greens and browns and reddish oranges.

She walks for hours, for days, for seconds.

She walks until there’s nothing.

_Nothing, nothing, nothing._

Rey stops at the top of the hill, out of breath. As she stands there, gazing down at all the green, completely alone, something hard presses against her solar plexus. It won’t go away until she opens her mouth.

“Who am I?” The words are quieter than a calm breath.

The wind picks up, howling down from the sky and stirring up every fallen leaf and twig, whipping strands of hair from Rey’s ponytail. _You are nothing_. The trees seem to sigh, their branches creaking in the gale. _You are no one_. 

“It’s not fair!” She screams.

The forest offers no response.

Rey feels ridiculous. “I must be losing it,” she mutters, closing her eyes and pressing her fingers to her temples.

The wind continues to whistle. 

Shaking it off, she looks for a path down the other side of the hill, one that’s not obscured by trees and rocks. 

There isn’t one. 

_Just my luck._ She reaches out to the nearest trunk, holding on to steady herself as she takes a step over the edge. The hill is steep, the leaves wet underfoot. She thinks she can move from tree to tree, if she goes slowly. Her fingertips have barely brushed the nearest branch, when—

— _crash_ —

She’s sliding down the slope.

Rey lands, hard, in a heap at the bottom, groaning and covered in leaves. 

Tentative, feeling out movement again, she rises to her feet. Nothing’s broken, but she grunts in discomfort as her hands brush over a tender area on her left thigh. _That’s definitely going to bruise._

She claps a hand to her pocket, letting out a relieved sigh when she feels the outline of the cell phone. Brushing dirt and debris from her clothing, she raises her head. Only then does she become aware of her surroundings.

Her fall threw her smack in the middle of a meadow. 

The afternoon sunlight dapples the tall grass, waving in a wide sea of light green and dotted with splendid specks of purples, whites, and yellows. As she drifts closer, the scent of wildflowers rises to meet her and she swoops down to pluck a daisy. The pleasant breeze cards its fingers through her hair. To her right, she can hear the rushing of a stream. 

She lifts her face to the sky, breathless.

This is the most serene place she’s ever been. 

Rey collapses on her back, spread-eagle in the bed of soft grass. She basks in the light heat of the Forks sun and without meaning to, she dozes off. 

She doesn’t know how long she naps for, but when she eventually comes to, the sun is much higher in the sky and her limbs feel heavy like they’re still floating in a dreamworld. 

Rey stretches her arms wide and yawns. She has no idea how far she’s hiked, but from the ache of exertion in her muscles, it must be at least a couple miles. The sore spot from her fall twinges and she rubs it with a wince.

Rey leans back on her hands and absentmindedly gazes out at the tree-line, rolling her feet back and forth at the heel like a kid, her mind pleasantly empty. 

She doesn’t get to savor this moment for long. The back of her neck prickles.

She freezes, all senses on red alert. 

Someone’s watching her.

“Hello?” She calls, twisting her upper body so she can peer into the mass of trees on the other side of the woods. “Is somebody there?”

No reply.

Her forearms erupt into goosebumps.

She jumps to her feet, spinning to look all around her, not bothering to remove the tiny flowers that have tangled in her hair. She faces the section of the forest to her right, for the first time daunted by its size and mystery. 

“Hello?” She calls again, taking a step forward. “Who’s there?”

Maybe it’s her imagination, but there’s something suspicious about the way the light shifts at the edge of the greenery, like someone lingered there but has now moved back into the underbrush.

“Who’s there?” Rey shouts, her feet carrying her closer to the place of unsettlement.

Her pace quickens and before she knows it, she’s all but sprinting through the trees, bursting into a clearing by a river.

A clearing home to a family of grizzly bears.

Rey has less than a second to process three cubs nestled under an overhang and the sound of a twig snapping under her foot, before the mother bear whirls, bares her teeth, and lunges at her.

_Fuck!_

Rey whips around. She races back into the meadow, the bear snarling at her heels.

The grizzly roars. It’s so close Rey can feel hot breath on her nape and if she doesn’t pull ahead, she’s dead meat—

A sick thought occurs to her.

This could be it, all she would have to do is stop running and everything would be okay because everything would be over—

She’s just so tired of fighting—

Would it really be so terrible if she stopped fighting?

She shuts her eyes, letting her breakneck pace slow, her arms coming out to cushion the blow as she starts to fall forward. A huff forces out of her as she hits the ground chest first—

But the fatal blow never comes.

She waits...hoping...

Nothing.

Rey cracks open an eye. She turns.

Staring down the formidable bear, his back to her, is a man.

He blocks out the weak sun. His shadow covers her entirely, painting the grass around her black. Maybe it’s because she’s lying on the ground, but she’s never felt so tiny compared to another human. He’s got to be six feet tall. His shoulders are so broad and toned she can see the muscles straining underneath the knitted material of his sweater. As easily as she can feel the change in the air from an approaching storm, Rey senses the power coiled within him, wrapped around itself like a cobra poised to strike and contained only by the force of his will. He stands in front of the bear without a hint of fear, large and imposing as if the animal should be afraid of _him_.

She doesn’t realize she’s leaned toward him until she’s accosted by his scent. 

She’s smelled nothing like it. 

It’s the most enticing aroma: cloves and leather and thunderstorm, underlied by something darkly masculine, something his and his alone... she breathes in deeper and some foreign thing inside of her clenches. Her blood brings her heart to her head and the pounding in her skull sounds suspiciously like alarm bells.

Distracted as she is, she doesn’t realize the bear has turned tail and lumbered off until the man makes to follow, taking his alluring scent with him.

The man’s hair is black like the night, streaming from his scalp in elegant waves. His hands are two white doves nested at his back.

She suddenly, _desperately_ , needs to see his face.

“Wait!” Rey cries, scrambling to her feet. “Who are you?”

He doesn't stop. He doesn't turn around. “I am no one.”

His voice rumbles like the thunder he smells of, she blinks, and then—

Nothing.

☾

She doesn’t get back in time to start working on the truck.

☾

Later, Rey dreams of bears that spit fire and a dark angel with white wings. 

His feathers are satin against her cheek when he draws her into a comforting embrace, folding his wings around her and keeping the fire at bay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	3. Cults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Brief descriptions of dubcon sex Rey had when she was 15 with a 19 year old, as well as sexual harassment/assault/stalking. Spans paragraphs 16- 21 if you would like to skip over that.**

When Rey wakes to her second morning in Forks, overcast skies and a light fog greet her with open arms. A slight drizzle falls from the grey clouds. Yesterday’s sun is definitely nowhere to be found.

“I’ll grow gills if I stay here too long.” Rey huffs. Her fingers are going to be permanently pruned by the end of the week. 

She groans, forcing herself to sit up and face the day. As her hands shift on the bed, they encounter something alive and furry.

Tongue halting on his flank, Bebe glares at her with one green eye. 

He’s just a cat, she knows that, but she bristles anyway. “Hey, you’re in _my_ bed, buddy.”

Bebe ignores her and resumes his morning bath. Rey decides not to kick him out— the rasp of his spiked tongue against his fur is surprisingly soothing. 

She hadn’t noticed before, but one of the cat’s ears is halved down the middle. The wound doesn’t extend all the way to his skull, but it’s far enough down for there to be a tiny crack in which she could see through his ear. Thin puckered lines criss cross the pink membrane— claw marks. 

“Looks like you have a habit of pissing people off,” Rey mutters, but there’s little heat in her words. 

She leaves him be, rubbing a stiff spot in her neck as she swings herself around so she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. She can’t stand up, knowing what’s to come. 

She _hates_ school. 

Back in Phoenix, she’d stuck to herself. No one wanted to be friends with the scrappy orphan and even if they did, Rey wouldn’t have let them get close enough to form a genuine friendship. 

She’s never fit in. In every conversation, she somehow manages to say the wrong thing. She just doesn’t relate well to other people, especially other teenagers. 

It was easier to avoid her classmates. To not have to pretend like she cared about their petty problems. The girls worried about everything— their weight, their hair, their skin, boobs, butts, lips, noses, makeup...the list went on and on, but their top concerns were simple: boys and sex. 

And what did the boys worry about? Nothing _but_ sex. 

How predictable. 

Rey’s had sex once, and it was an experience she did her best to forget.

During the summer of her fifteenth year, the hottest months in Arizona record, she’d scored a lifeguarding gig at the neighborhood pool. The job paid ten dollars an hour— plus tips when she worked the ice cream stand. It was the most money she’d ever had, despite the majority of it going to Plutt.

Trent Williams was the owner’s son. He was nineteen with acne, a nicotine problem, and a nasty habit of grabbing her ass. He hadn’t left her alone all summer, sometimes he even followed her home, and he’d had an angry edge to his mouth that reminded her of her foster father.

Figuring it would get Trent to stop bothering her, she’d let him fuck her face-down on the couch in his dad’s basement. 

If Rey concentrates hard enough, she can still remember the taste of polyester as she’d bitten down on the cushion, trying not to make a sound…

Ever since then, sex has been the last thing on her mind.

No, Rey had more important things to worry about.

Like how she was going to scrape together enough money from her shifts at Pizza Hut to cover the electricity bill. Or where she could hide the empty beer bottles so Plutt wouldn’t have anything to smash over her head. Or where she would get her next meal. 

It wasn’t like her peers didn’t have serious problems of their own. Everyone at Phoenix Central High School came from the lowest rung on the social ladder. But they prioritized their frivolous concerns over their _real_ problems. And Rey couldn’t understand that.

She’d always worried that maybe _she_ was the problem. Like everyone else had the answer to a question she didn’t even know to ask. Like they all saw the world from behind the same lens. Like they were all androids and Rey was the most outdated model.

Maybe that’s it— maybe there’s a flaw in her code. Maybe her wiring is faulty.

Either way, there was no love lost between her and her classmates. They were always so quick to judge, to cast a pitying look in her direction, to whisper behind her back. _I heard her parents left her on the steps of a church when she was three..._

She got in a few fights a month, rough ones she never instigated but didn’t stop. Though lately the fights had become less frequent— Rey had a mean right hook and nothing to lose.

Marina had raised a penciled eyebrow at the impressive array of blots on her record, asking how the school had let her behavior slide with only a few detentions here and there. _Why do you think?_

Marina had glanced around the office, had seen the graffiti in the hallways, the students loitering outside, the peeling paint. Her mouth had twisted as the unspoken _because nobody cares about us_ hung between them.

When she faxed over Rey’s record, Marina had put the pages detailing Rey’s _blatant disrespect for authority_ and her _proclivity for trouble_ into the shredder. 

Marina had muttered something about Rey having enough problems. “Don’t tell anyone,” she’d whispered. 

Rey wonders if Maz would have been so welcoming if she knew about that part of Rey’s past. 

She groans again. 

This new school was going to be no better and frankly, Rey didn’t have the energy to deal with it anymore. But she’d promised Marina that she would try, and the social worker had done her a huge favor by not passing on those pages of her file. The woman has risked her career for _Rey_. As much as she hated it, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't uphold that hasty promise.

Fantastic.

Hopefully, she’ll be able to blend into the shadows. Show up, go to class, speak to no one. 

She sighs, letting go of that fantasy. In a town this size, a newcomer is bound to bring a lot of attention. Especially a weird, scrawny girl with a troubled childhood. 

Rey has no illusions about her beauty. She knows she’s frightfully plain. Most people would say that she’s too thin. Nothing special. Your average white girl with brown hair.

If she were someone else, she would care. But she’s nobody but herself, so she doesn’t give a shit. She has bigger problems than her appearance— staying alive, for example.

Something wet nudges her hand and Rey pulls herself out of her head to find Bebe nosing her palm. 

Sensing what the animal wants, Rey scratches his good ear. His booming purr begins instantaneously. The shaggy tabby rolls over, exposing his firm stomach, and with an eye roll, she pets him there. 

“Don’t get used to this,” she warns. “You’re going back to Maz’s room tonight.”

As she scratches, her thoughts drift to the mysterious man in the meadow, to his scent, and the deepness of his voice as he’d said _I am no one._

“He saved me,” she marvels. 

Bebe gives an indignant mewl— her hands had stilled.

“Who was he?” She asks the tabby as she resumes stroking.

Bebe has no answer. 

Then again, he’s only a cat.

Perhaps the man had been hiking. Or maybe he was a tourist. Marina had told her the mountainous forests of the Olympic Peninsula are frequented by campers.

But in October? On the cusp of winter?

She snorts, admitting that the cold and rainy weather probably isn’t as unbearable to other people as it is to her. 

Baffling. Anyone who chooses to camp in rain or snow is a masochist in her book. 

“Rey! You awake?” Maz’s voice, echoing from the foot of the stairs, is so abrupt in the quiet morning that Bebe hisses and darts under her desk.

“Yes!” Rey calls back, finally standing up. She cracks the sleep out of her back and Bebe hisses at that sound too.

She grins at the animal. “I had no idea cats were such wimps.”

If Bebe could roll his eyes, Rey’s sure that he would.

“Hurry and get ready, you have to leave soon and you need to eat!” Maz shouts. A loud rustling follows her words. 

Eager for more of Maz’s cooking, Rey tugs on jeans and a hoodie. Per usual, she starts to toss her hair up, but on an afterthought, she leaves it down.

Her hair is really too long to be manageable— two years ago she’d tired of giving herself haircuts and decided to let it grow out. Currently it falls to the small of her back in a thick cloud of mahogany. 

Feeling safe again, Bebe emerges from his hiding place. He follows her downstairs, weaving around her ankles, nearly tripping her. 

Maz is pouring a bowl of cereal when Rey enters. 

She frowns when she sees Bebe intertwined with Rey’s legs. “He slept with you again?”

She grunts noncommittally. “Yes. You can have him back anytime.”

As Maz chuckles, Rey plops in her chair and starts shoveling in Cheerios. When Bebe continues to rub against her and she refuses to pet him, he slinks over to Maz who lifts him at once, crooning.

The tabby nestles himself in the crook of the woman’s elbow, observing Rey with large unblinking eyes.

Rey doesn’t mind cats, she’s never had one, so she doesn’t really have an opinion, but there’s something unsettling about Bebe that has nothing to do with his wild nature. Something off about the way he looks at her. Something off about the way he’s attached himself to her so quickly. 

Maz drops a brown paper bag in front of her. 

“What’s this?” The words are distorted beyond recognition by the amount of cereal in her mouth, but Maz understands. 

“Your lunch,” Maz says, vanishing into the living room. 

She returns a second later, holding a bright yellow backpack in place of Bebe. She puts it on the chair next to Rey and opens it, revealing a variety of notebooks on top of which she stuffs Rey’s lunch.

“Here you go,” the old woman zips up the backpack and gives it a satisfied pat. “Brand new bookbag and school supplies.”

Rey raises the bowl to her lips and drains it dry. Wiping off the ensuing milk mustache, she stands and deposits the dish in the sink before she turns back to Maz. She takes a deep breath, shoving down the unreasonable irritation that accompanied Maz’s words. 

“Thanks, but no thanks. I already have a backpack.”

Maz looks at her over the top of her glasses. “That blue thing? It’s ancient and falling apart, child.”

Rey’s annoyance flares hotter than the sun. “Yes, but it’s _mine_ ,” she snaps.

She pushes past Maz to rush upstairs and grab said item. When she comes back down, Maz is waiting, holding just the notebooks and lunch bag.

Rey eyes her warily.

“I’m sorry, child,” Maz begins. “I didn’t know the backpack was important to you. Keep yours, but at least take the food and books.”

She’s flooded by guilt. Maz has been so kind to her and Rey’s acted terribly. She’d forgotten about her promise to Marina.

She accepts the items from Maz’s outstretched hands and crams them into her bag. The corner of one of the notebooks sticks out through a widening hole in the bottom. From the tightening of the skin around Maz's mouth, it looks like she wants to say something but chooses against it.

“Thanks,” she mutters, looking anywhere but the old woman. She heads to the door where Bebe is already pawing to get out.

Without a backward glance, Rey disappears into the foggy morning.

☾

Forks High School is a twenty-minute bike ride from Maz’s house. It’s incredibly easy to find— like anything of importance in a small town, it’s just off the interstate.

She locks up Maz’s bike, raising an eyebrow at the state of the rack. The wood is so warped and rotted from continuous rainfall that Rey doubts its structural integrity. _Oh, well. Not my bike, not my problem._

On her way, it had started to rain. She trudges to the front doors, avoiding puddles like the plague. In her haste to leave, she hadn’t grabbed her rain boots. Maz had told her to bring them with her everywhere. She'd said, "In this part of the world you never know when it's going to start raining." Making a mental note to put her rain boots in her bag later, Rey opens the front door and steps inside.

At first glance, this high school seems exactly like the one she’d attended in Phoenix, albeit smaller and cleaner. Looks like here they can afford a consistent janitorial staff.

She’s glad Maz got her up early. The halls are empty, so she doesn't have to worry about putting on her "human face." Siena, a chatty younger girl who'd lived down the street from Rey in Arizona and who was probably the closest thing Rey had ever had to a friend, once joked that Rey had the general disposition of a starving wolf. "You're not that scary, Rey," the girl had teased while Rey scrounged around the junkyard for Plutt. "It's okay to look human." Rey had simply responded, "I _am_ starving," and that had shut Siena right up. Though not for long— Siena's family didn't have cable, so the media she consumed was exclusively made up of her parents' tapes of old Hollywood musicals. The second Siena had seen _Bye Bye Birdie_ , she'd latched onto _Put On A Happy Face_. Her favorite thing to do was serenade Rey with her high-pitched warble, substituting "happy" for "human." 

The girl was irritating, as most children are, but when she moved away a couple years ago, Rey was surprised to find herself missing the preteen, in spite of the singing. The night Siena left was the last time Rey had cried. She wonders what Siena would make of Maz and Forks. What the girl would say about Rey's current facial expression. _Put on a human face..._

Stopping in front of the door to the main office, she tries to relax her facial muscles. She doesn't have a mirror, but the relaxation doesn't _feel_ like an improvement. Twitching up the corners of her mouth takes as much effort as deadlifting five hundred pounds, so Rey forgoes that as well. 

"Ah, fuck it," she mutters, letting her natural facial posture have the reins again. _I'm a starving wolf, so what?_

A heavyset woman wearing the wrong foundation and too much blush throws open the door, and Rey jumps back, startled. "Hello! You must be Rey Johnson."

"Hi!" Peeking around the woman's thick shoulder is an athletic blonde girl with a thousand watt smile and pigtails. 

She can sense a migraine coming on. "Yeah, I'm Rey."

The woman extends a pudgy hand. “Mrs. Daniels, guidance counselor.” 

Rey opts for a curt nod in lieu of the handshake. 

Mrs. Daniels seems puzzled, but she lets it go, dropping her hand and gesturing to the girl. “This is Kaydel Connix, senior class president.”

“And captain of the cheerleading team!” Kaydel adds brightly.

Pride colors Mrs. Daniel's voice. "She'll be showing you around today."

Rey can tell that Senior Class President and Cheerleading Captain Kaydel Connix has every administrator eating out of the palm of her hand. “Okay.”

“Alrighty!” Mrs. Daniels claps her hands together and fumbles around in the file cabinet. She produces a sheet of paper and passes it to Rey. “Here’s your schedule. Have each teacher sign it, then bring it back here after last period.”

“Okay.”

“Have an outstanding day, Rey. Let me know if you need anything.” With the width of Mrs. Daniels’s grin, Rey can see that nicotine has ruined her teeth beyond repair. 

Kaydel intertwines her arms with Rey’s. She stiffens, but forces herself not to wrench her arm back. _I promised to try._

She lets the blonde lead them out of the office, the oak door swinging shut behind them. She must not have gotten here as early as she’d thought because the hallway is rapidly filling with students.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Rey! I know it can be so scary moving to a new school after the year already started, but don’t worry! I totally have your back. Also, call me Kay. No one calls me Kaydel except my parents.”

Rey doesn’t want to interact with this girl. “Okay.”

“What’s your first class?”

She glances down at her schedule. “Biology.”

Kaydel’s voice goes up a full octave in excitement. “Ooo, Biology with Mr. Booker! I have him fourth period. He’s kinda a grump, but his lessons are suuuuuper in depth. Biology is still blah, though. This way.” She tugs on Rey’s elbow, and they make a sharp left turn. “So, you’re from Arizona?”

“Phoenix,” she grunts, hoping to sound off-putting enough that the girl will lapse into silence.

“That’s so cool, I’ve always wanted to go to Arizona. It must get so hot there in the summer. I can tell because you’re so tan. I wish I could get a good tan,” Kaydel says wistfully. “But it’s practically impossible because of all the stupid rain. Don’t get me wrong, I love Forks, I’ve lived here my entire life. But sometimes I wanna see the sun, you know? Mrs. Daniels says you’re a foster kid?”

Rey’s head is spinning from the girl’s whirlwind ramblings. She didn’t know it was possible for someone to talk this fast or this much. “Uh, yeah.” 

So much for keeping a low profile. But how much does the school know? How much does Kaydel know?

“What’s that like? I can’t imagine being in the foster system. My family is my whole life. Well, my family and cheering. Do you cheerlead? You’re the first foster kid that’s been in Forks, I think. Because small towns stress family values and they don’t like outsiders and all that. Did you have foster siblings? How long have you been in the system? Where are your birth parents? Did they die? I’m _so_ sorry if they died.” 

Rey has no experience with bluntness. Everyone she meets prefers to tiptoe around questions of her childhood. It makes people uncomfortable when someone has less than they have.

But Kaydel’s looking at her expectantly. Like she’d just asked Rey what color the sky was or something else equally mundane and universally known. 

Luckily, she’s saved by their arrival to biology. Other students overrun the hallway now, surrounding Rey with the aggravating noise of amiable chatter. 

She pries her arms from Kaydel’s grip. “Thanks for the help.” 

“No prob- Oh! I almost forgot!” Kaydel grabs Rey’s schedule and quickly peruses it. 

She fires off directions to each classroom, so fast that Rey can't possibly remember them all, before shoving the paper back in her hand. “...And we have lunch the same period so I’ll save you a seat! Toodles!” Kaydel spins, gives her a little wave, and skips off down the hall.

Rey blinks. It has to be drugs. No one’s that happy.

☾

The first four periods pass in a blur of faces and names Rey won’t remember. 

In each class she sits at the very back, head tucked, avoiding the confused glances, the scatter of whispers. She lets her mind wander, not bothering to pay attention to the lessons. There’s no need. There has never been a need for school. Why spend time on hypothetical problems when she has _actual_ , real-life problems to solve? She’ll be in Forks until her eighteenth birthday, at which point she’ll drop out, so now there’s really no need to pay attention. 

When the bell rings at the end of fourth period, she lingers back to get her schedule signed before following the flood of students to the cafeteria. 

Upon entering, she looks around at the various groups of teens, relieved when she doesn’t see Kaydel. She doesn’t think she could put up with her chatter for any longer. She’s on her way to an empty table in the back corner when she hears—

“Rey!”

The cheerleader is standing at a table in the middle of the cafeteria, waving her over. 

_Be nice._

Dragging her feet, cursing Marina Weiss and her stupid favor, she goes. 

“Rey, this is Jess. She does cheer with me,” A girl with coppery red hair waves from Kaydel’s right, “and this is Keyan. He doesn’t do anything.”

“‘Except your mom!” The other person at the table, a skinny boy with hair like straw, shoots Kaydel a flirtatious wink. 

“Gross,” Kaydel sniffs right as Jess says, “ _Ew_ , Keyan.”

Rey wishes she’d made it to that empty table before Kaydel saw her.

Jess gives her an encouraging smile. “Aren't you gonna sit down?”

Reluctantly, Rey slides into the seat on Keyan’s right, across from the two girls. 

She pulls out the lunch Maz packed her: a tuna-fish sandwich, pretzels, and an apple. She tears into the food with her usual gusto, oblivious to the way Keyan winces in disgust and Jess and Kaydel’s mouths fall open. 

“Rey’s from Arizona!” Kaydel says loudly, trying to cover the sounds of Rey’s smacking. 

“Oh, nice.” Keyan shoves a chip in his mouth. “You ever been to the Vegas strip?” He waggles his eyebrows in a manner that tells Rey he’s only seen Las Vegas on TV.

“I’m from Phoenix, actually. And Vegas is more than strippers and casinos,” says Rey. She didn’t mean for it to sound as unfriendly as it came out. _Starving wolf..._

Awkward silence.

Jess clears her throat. “So, your family just moved out here then?” 

It’s an innocent enough question, but Rey stops chewing all the same. 

Kaydel answers for her. An annoying habit Rey could get behind. “Rey’s a foster kid. She’s staying with Maz.”

“You know Maz?” She’s surprised. Despite Maz’s produce business, the woman comes off as somewhat of a loner.

“Everyone knows Maz. She’s been around since, like, our _parents_ were young.”

“My mom’s been buying her herbs for years,” Jess agrees.

“Small town, everyone knows everyone.” Keyan jokes, snagging a fry off Jess’s plate and laughing when she slaps his hand. 

He pops it in his mouth and moves on to Kaydel’s lunch, but she lobs a tomato from her salad at his head good-naturedly. “Paws off, bitch.”

Rey averts her eyes, feeling so like an intruder that a wave of nausea rolls through her. 

It’s there, in a stuffy cafeteria, in a town where she doesn't belong, in a group of people untouched by true hardship, that she sees them. 

They’re seated at the table she wanted to sit at, the table as far away from the rest of the student body as possible. There’s four of them. They’ve decided to sit together, but the reason behind that choice isn’t apparent because they’re looking off in different directions, not talking. Each of them has a tray, but they aren’t eating either. The only thing they _are_ doing is surveying the cafeteria with barely-contained disdain. 

There’s two boys and two girls. In terms of physical traits, they have nothing in common.

One of the girls looks like Kaydel if the cheerleader had her bubbly personality sucked out of her and were half a foot taller. She’s _super_ tall. Even sitting down, her legs go on for miles. Her hair is chin-length, pale blonde and cut into a sleek bob. Her nails are long and bright red. Marina's acrylics could have passed for her natural nails (if she told you she took vitamins to make them strong), but these? Rey's never seen nails like these before. They're _talons._ Filed to points so sharp, it seems like being grazed by the tip of one could sever your carotid. 

Next to her is one of the boys. His ginger hair is longer than the blonde girl's, brushing his shoulders. He’s not muscular or thin, more wiry. He looks older than the others, closer to college age than high school. There’s an edge to him, something sharp and honed. You know when people wonder if they would survive the zombie apocalypse? This guy definitely could. Except for his clothing and general cleanliness, he could be a character from any doomsday film. He has that air about him— survival at any cost.

The other girl is the exact opposite of the blonde. She’s black-haired, petite and cute, of Asian descent. Her hair is wild in an artful way, layered, with feathered bangs sweeping across her forehead. The style reminds Rey of the Emo clique at her old school, except _this_ haircut is more haute couture. It wouldn’t be out of place in a high fashion editorial. Or on a runway.

The boy next to her has skin almost the same shade as Maz’s. It’s lovely— a creamy unblemished brown. His hair is cropped close to his scalp, emphasizing his strong bone structure. He’s regal. A boy king. If she squints, she can almost see his crown. 

They all look like they haven't slept in a week. There are purplish black circles under their eyes, bruise-like. Like they’re healing from two black eyes.

From here, their eyes themselves look black. Not a deep brown, but a true black. So black, it’s like staring into an abyss.

But this is not what catches her attention.

Each one is the most beautiful human being alive.

Their beauty is the unattainable type. The kind only achieved by layers of makeup and copious amounts of airbrushing. The kind that inspired ancient symphonies, epic poems, operas and Greek tragedies. The kind that Renaissance painters imagined to be the faces of angels.

She now understands why Helen of Troy had a whole war fought in her honor. Why her face launched a thousand ships.

These faces could launch millions.

“Who are _they_?” She demands, interrupting whatever Jess, Kaydel, and Keyan had been talking about.

Three pairs of eyes follow the subtle line of Rey’s finger and three pairs of eyes hurriedly return to their table. 

For the first time since Rey’s met her, Kaydel frowns. “The Organas. They’re—”

“Freaks,” Keyan mutters. 

“—different,” Kaydel finishes. “They moved down from Alaska a little over a year ago. The sheriff and his wife adopted them from this huge Alaskan group home. They’re all, like,” her eyes widen comically, “ _together_.”

Rey furrows her brow. “Together?”

“Yeah,” Jess leans in closer and lowers her voice, “the ginger, Armitage, and the blonde, Gwendolyn, are dating. So are the other two, Rosemary and Finnigan. I mean, they’re not related, but it’s still weird. They _live_ together.”

Armitage and Gwendolyn. Rosemary and Finnigian. 

Strange, old-fashioned names. Names belonging to grandparents, not teenagers. 

“Huh,” Rey studies them again, but she doesn’t see any romantic undertones to their behavior. They’re still posed like strangers who had no choice but to sit next to one another.

“It’s messed up.” Keyan shakes his head in disgust. “Stay away from them, Arizona. They’re creepy as shit. They never talk to anyone but their little group and once a month they all disappear for a week to go _camping_. Like, what the fuck is that other than an excuse to have an orgy? I’m telling you, it’s a cult.”

Kaydel rolls her eyes. “The Organas are not a _cult_ , Keyan. Don’t be stupid.”

“What else would you call it?” He lists things on his fingers. “They live up in the woods in the middle of nowhere, they do everything together, they never invite other people into their group, they’re all dating- How is that not a cult?”

“A cult is, like, the Manson Family.”

“Yeah, I think to be a cult you have to kill people,” Jess adds helpfully. 

_“How do we know they haven’t killed someone?”_

“Oh, come on—”

“Kay, _listen_ —”

Rey lets their bickering dissolve into background noise, shifting her focus back to the Organas. There’s something oddly familiar about their posture, though she’s sure she’s never met anyone like them. She would remember if she had.

With no warning, Rey’s entire world shifts on its axis. 

_He_ arrives. 

It’s him. The man from the forest. Or rather, the _boy_ from the forest.

He enters the cafeteria from the outside, heading to the table where the Organas sit. His stride is loping, light and agile. It would make sense on a gymnast or a dancer, but it doesn’t fit with his immense size. He takes the seat next to Finnigan. She hadn’t noticed there was a fifth chair until now.

As he sits, he brushes his hair out of his face and she gasps involuntarily. 

If she thought the others were beautiful, they have nothing on him. 

He’s _exquisite._ The sharp lines of his face contrast intriguingly with the thick waves of his raven-black hair. His skin is pale, dotted here and there with tiny beauty marks. His eyes seem black too, the shadows under them matching with the Organas.

Unlike the others, a puckered scar starts at his forehead, stretching in a red line down the right side of his angular face and disappearing into the collar of his shirt. The line is only broken by his eye. A smaller line frames the big one on both sides. Three blemishes total.

She frowns at the shape of the wound. There’s something familiar about its ragged edges. 

Her eyes widen.

His scar looks like Bebe’s— like claw marks. 

That’s impossible. What animal has claws that big? That long? 

These flaws do nothing to detract from his handsomeness. The scar even has a haunting beauty all its own.

His lips are pink and full. As she looks at them, she wets her own on reflex and trails her gaze down past the chiseled shape of his jaw and the strong line of his neck, until it lands on the swell of his biceps crossed over a massive chest that tapers into a toned waist that leads to long, long legs. Longer than Gwendolyn’s.

She was wrong in the forest then, there’s no way he’s six feet. He’s taller.

Keyan groans. “Solo's back.”

“He’s one of them? The Organas?” The name feels strange and unfamiliar in her mouth. It must be old-fashioned as well.

Jess nods. “He’s the couple’s only biological child. That’s why he doesn’t have the same last name.”

Keyan steals another fry from Jess. He pretends not to see her look of outrage. “Solo’s an asshole.”

Kaydel fervently jumps on this topic of conversation. “Last year, Sarah McQueen—she cheers too— asked him to prom. He was so mean when he rejected her, he made her cry and she didn’t come to school for, like, two whole days.” 

Jess frowns. “I don’t think he meant to make her cry.”

Kaydel throws her a withering glare. “Trust me, Jess. He did.”

Keyan sips his soda, smug. “He’s a huge asshole.”

“You’re just jealous cause you’re 5’9,” Jess retorts. 

The tips of Keyan’s ears pinken. “Am not. The guy’s a dick! When have you ever seen him be nice to anyone?”

“Maybe he’s just shy!” Jess says defensively. 

Keyan laughs. Too loudly— Rosemary’s eyes flicker in their direction. The other three don’t notice, but Rey does. Hurriedly, she looks back down at her lunch, not wanting to be caught staring.

“Jess, Benjamin Solo is _not_ shy. Have you seen the guy? He looks like a walking Men’s Health ad.”

“So, you are jealous.”

“Benjamin?” She questions, cutting off Keyan’s protests. The name isn't as unusual as the others, though it's still old-fashioned. It doesn't fit. Benjamin is the name of the snot-nosed kid who put gum in her hair in the first grade. Benjamin is the name of one client of Plutt's entitled brat of a son who'd mansplain cars to her as she was elbow deep in an engine and covered in motor oil. Benjamin is not the name of a man like this. Adonis would be more fitting. 

“Yeah." Kaydel wrinkles her nose, letting her distaste for the name be known. Rey doesn't understand her reaction— Kaydel is more of a modern name, yes, but it's just as rare as the Organa's.

“Should be _Asshole_ ,” Keyan says under his breath. 

Jess reaches across the table and swats his shoulder. “Stop being so mean!”

“Ow, jeez!” 

Rey sneaks another glance in the Organas' direction. They’re all still looking away from each other, but Benjamin’s lips are moving as if he’s speaking quietly. "What happened to him?"

Kaydel shifts. "No one really knows. I think it was a car accident."

Keyan and Jess also look uncomfortable at the mention of the mysterious scar. Rey gets it. Though it doesn't mar his beauty, it does make him all the more intimidating.

Taking pity, she changes the subject. “Five teenagers must be a lot for two people.” 

Kaydel’s voice is snide. “Oh, don’t feel bad for them. The sheriff’s wife is Dr. Organa. She’s old money _and_ Chief of Surgery at the hospital. The whole family’s filthy rich.” 

Rey glances again, this time with fresh eyes. 

Now that she knows what to look for, she can clearly see the difference between the Organas’ clothes and the rest of the cafeteria’s. In this tiny pacific town, everyone dresses conservatively. Clothes serve a practical use.

The Organas' clothing is practical, but chic. Designer. Like they’re wearing an ‘Olympic Peninsula’ collection exclusively made for them.

Rey tears her gaze away from Gwendolyn’s pristine white jacket. “Still, it’s nice that they adopted all of them.” 

A stab of jealousy pierces her heart. If she’d been born in Alaska, perhaps she would have been adopted by the well-off sheriff and doctor. 

For a second, she loathes the Organas. They represent a life she could have had.

“Yeah, I guess.” Kaydel flips her hair behind her shoulders. “I think the reason they adopted is because it’s hard for them to conceive. I heard Benjamin was their miracle baby.” She says this like it diminishes their good deeds.

Despite her jealousy, Rey feels like defending the couple. Weird. What would she say? She doesn’t know them.

At that moment, the family rises in one fluid motion. They leave their untouched food on the table and exit the cafeteria smoothly. 

They make walking look like dancing. As they leave, other students gawk and whisper, their faces unfriendly and haughty. They clearly don’t fit in.

It has to be their choice. They’re all so beautiful, she can’t believe that their separation isn’t voluntary.

Regardless, it seems Jess is the only one who doesn’t mind the Organas.

☾

Turns out Kaydel and Rey have the next period together too.

As they head to English, Kaydel talks Rey’s ear off. It’s nothing interesting, gossip mostly, so the girl doesn’t berate her with questions like she’d had that morning. _Thank god._

Kaydel ducks into the classroom ahead of her, greeting everyone with enthusiasm. Rey hangs back, handing her schedule to the teacher to sign. 

The teacher, Mrs. Holdo, doesn’t bother with any of the bullshit rules the other teachers had subjected Rey to. She just signs Rey’s paper, hands her a copy of the current assigned book, and points to the only empty seat. 

The desks are arranged in rows of two. Kaydel had taken her place next to a girl she seemed friendly with. 

Rey looks in the direction Holdo had pointed, freezing.

Her seat is next to Benjamin Solo.

As she’s debating how to proceed (Does she bring up what happened? Does she thank him? That’s what you’re supposed to do when someone saves your life, right?), Holdo turns the fan on— all the classrooms are stuffy— and the gust ruffles Rey’s hair.

Benjamin’s head shoots up and his back becomes ramrod straight. 

He fixes his black gaze on Rey and his glare is so antagonistic she automatically takes a step back. 

“Miss Johnson, if you would take your seat, I could begin class.” Holdo looks mildly annoyed.

She mutters an apology, making her way to the empty chair. Benjamin grows stiffer with each step she takes. 

She doesn’t look at him as she sits, placing the copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ Holdo had given her on the desk. The teacher begins the lecture, but the words sound like gibberish to Rey.

Benjamin’s presence is like a magnet— it draws the entirety of her attention away from everything else.

She glances over, flinching when she finds him staring at her with open revulsion, his paper-white hands clenched on his thighs.

Is he angry with her? She dismisses the thought immediately. What possible reason could he have for being this angry with her?

Because he looks _furious_. 

She’s never been more confused. 

Perhaps he’d seen her in the cafeteria and was annoyed she’d hadn’t introduced herself and thanked him for yesterday?

But that doesn’t warrant this level of rage. He’s looking at her like he’s planning her murder. 

“Uh, hi,” Rey says tentatively. “I’m—”

She doesn’t get to finish introducing herself because the boy is up and out of his chair. He crosses to the front of the classroom, his graceful walk as stormy as his face, ignoring Holdo’s shocked exclamations as he leaves the classroom, slamming the door so hard it rattles on its hinges.

_What the actual fuck is his problem?_

“Well,” Mrs. Holdo breaks the stunned silence first. “I’m certainly not going to go chasing after him. Talk amongst yourselves while I email the principal.”

The class dissolves into excited whispers and Kaydel whips around to stare at Rey.

“What happened?” She mouths.

Rey shakes her head, too shocked to manage words.

She spends the rest of the class trying to force Benjamin’s unwarranted aggression to make sense. 

She can’t.

☾

After the lecture, Kaydel catches up to her in the hallway, tugging on her sleeve. Rey recoils in reflex.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you!” Again, the cheerleader links their elbows together as they walk and Rey has to remind herself of her promise to Marina. “What was that with Benjamin Solo?”

She tries to play dumb. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Umm, when he fled from you like you were the devil incarnate?” Kaydel’s perfectly groomed eyebrows push together. “I’ve never seen him look so _angry_. What did you say to him?”

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

If Rey has the expression of a starving wolf, what would Siena say about Benjamin's face today?

☾

The day finally comes to an end and Rey rushes back to the front office, schedule in hand, eager to leave. She’d been right in assuming that this place would be no better than her other school. In fact, she can name one way in which it’s considerably worse.

She enters the office and stops in her tracks.

Benjamin Solo is arguing with Mrs. Daniels, his back to her. His voice is low, but she still catches the topic of the conversation.

He’s trying to switch out of their English period.

This can’t be because of her.

Can it?

He stops speaking the second he becomes aware that she’s in the room. He throws a glance her way and his expression is so full of unadulterated rage that for a second she thinks he might lunge at her. 

That would suck. She really hates fighting, despite the mountain of evidence to the contrary.

Plus, she would hate to tarnish her record after Marina cleared it. 

But if it came down to it, she would fight. She's not afraid of him. She's very familiar with aggressive men. _Bring it on, bitch._

“Nevermind,” he says coldly, halting the flow of Mrs. Daniels’ reasoning as to why he couldn’t move classes. “I can see that it’s impossible for this school to have _basic respect_ for its students.”

He turns on his heel, brushing past Rey as if she didn’t exist.

Wordlessly, she gives Mrs. Daniels her signed schedule, her mind reeling. 

Why was he trying to switch classes? Could it really be because of something she’d done? It's incredibly narcissistic to believe she could have this strong of an impact on someone without them knowing her.

She racks her brain, attempting to come up with one reason why he could hate her so much.

She draws a blank.

Keyan was right— he _is_ an asshole.

☾

When Rey gets back to Maz’s, she heads straight for the garage. 

She pulls the sheet off Maz’s husband’s truck, coughing as it releases a cloud of dust.

The truck is old. Ford pickup. Late 60s. Rey can’t tell if it was originally painted orange or if the red has just become so discolored from all the rust. 

She pops the hood, breathing in the comforting smell of metal and motor oil. She reaches for the toolkit and sets herself the task of breaking the engine down to its skeleton.

Rey loses herself in the routine movements and _does not think_ about the confusing antics of Benjamin Solo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to make it clear that I think Daisy is super pretty! Those are just Rey's opinions of herself in this universe. No one else thinks that about her!
> 
> FYI I will be giving Ben a motorcycle in this, instead of a Volvo. It's what we deserve!!!!
> 
> [Helen of Troy](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helen_of_Troy%22)
> 
> [Put On A Happy Face](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_CE7GqqrvY)
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	4. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4!  
> 

The next day Benjamin Solo doesn’t come to school.

She’d stormed into the cafeteria, ready to confront him, only to find four people at the secluded table instead of five. 

She can’t tell if she’s more relieved or irritated.

☾

The rest of the school week is dull compared to Monday.

She wakes, eats whatever Maz prepares for breakfast, and drags herself to school. 

Against her wishes, she’s made Jess, Kaydel, and Keyan’s little trio a quartet. 

One of them seems to always be there, no matter which way she turns— Jess in Biology and Math, Keyan in Gym, Kaydel in English and History. 

They’ve glued themselves to her side, apparently unable to sense her discomfort. 

Her usual callousness doesn’t work. When she’s purposefully hurtful or unfriendly, they think she’s being funny. When she tries to ditch them, they think she’s confused or lost. When she doesn’t participate in conversations or answers in one word responses, they think she’s tired.

Back in Phoenix, she was either ignored or feared and she liked it that way. Preferred it that way. 

On Thursday, she’s tempted to start a fight since people are having trouble getting the message. 

It’s only the memory of Marina’s kindness and her promise to the social worker that stops Rey from doing just that.

“Rey!”

She jolts at the sound of Keyan’s voice. He’s standing in front of the table where Jess and Kaydel sit, holding a tray laden with junk food and staring at her quizzically. 

She realizes that she'd entered the cafeteria and, on autopilot, had headed towards an empty table. As she shifts her trajectory towards the three of them, she can’t resist glancing over at the Organas.

Ben still isn’t here. He’s almost missed the entire week of school.

His siblings don’t seem to be affected by his continued absence. They have that same air of boredom about them as sit with perfect posture, posed like models, picking at their food. 

They don’t look at her as she passes. 

So, Ben can’t be absent because of her. If he was, then his siblings would harbor some of that same resentment. It must be something else. 

Frustrated, she slumps in her seat and bites off a chunk of her sandwich with more force than necessary.

“Woahh, Arizona. Who pissed you off?” Keyan places his tray across from her, next to Jess. His tone is light and joking, intending to make her smile.

She doesn’t. “Does Benjamin Solo usually skip this much?”

Kaydel finishes swallowing before she answers. “Not really. The most he’s ever been absent is when the Organas go on their monthly camping trips.”

“But all of them are absent then, right?”

“Yeah.” The cheerleader tilts her head. “Why do you care so much?” 

To her immense irritation, her cheeks flame. She averts the curious gazes of the three friends, letting her loose hair swing forward to cover the red splotches. “I don’t. I was just wondering.”

Jess eyes gleam at the same time Kaydel’s glint. Keyan tears into his burger, oblivious to subtle cues in the way only men could be. 

“Do you like him?” Jess asks, excited.

Keyan spits out his food. Chunks of hamburger go flying across the table and land on Kaydel’s tray. 

He ignores her shrieks, turning to Rey. “You like Benjamin Solo?”

“ _What?_ No!”

“Don’t bother.” Kaydel takes her napkin, daintily wiping up the remnants of Keyan’s lunch. “He thinks all the girls here are below him.” 

There’s a bitter undercurrent to her words and Rey’s lips twitch, understanding Kaydel’s lukewarm opinion of the Organas better now. 

“I do _not_ like Benjamin Solo,” She insists. “Honestly, he seems like a dick.”

Triumphant, Keyan grins. “Told you!” 

Jess and Kaydel roll their eyes simultaneously. 

She shrugs again. “I was just curious about him. _That’s all_.”

“Good. You could do so much better,” says Kaydel, and then the tense mood is broken. She switches to her favorite thing to talk about: other people. “Did you hear that Mr. Teller may be having an affair with Mr. Green?”

Jess gasps and Rey looks down, taking a second to force her heartbeat back to a normal pace. 

The only reason she cares that Benjamin hasn’t come back to school is because he’d acted so strangely on Monday. And it seemed like the cause of that behavior had been her.

She knows it’s ridiculous to think that a stranger could have such a strong reaction to her that they would go to so much trouble to avoid her, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’s right. 

_It’s fine_ , she tells herself. _He’ll come back tomorrow and I’ll confront him. I’ll demand an answer._

She doesn’t like to be judged. 

☾

The dark angel fills her dreams.

He runs from her and she chases after, but she is always far behind, left in his dust.

Once, she jolts awake from some half-remembered nightmare and for a heartbeat, he’s there, looming from the corner of her room with his pearly wings extended above his head.

She shuts her eyes and counts to ten before opening them again. 

There’s nothing there. 

“I really am losing my mind.” She mutters, lying down and letting Bebe curl himself back around her.

☾

Benjamin doesn’t show up on Friday either.

She grinds her teeth and sits at their joined desk in English, tapping her fingers and trying to force the image of his fiery black eyes from her mind. Trying not to remember the potency of his hatred as he’d glared at her.

She’s never seen that level of animosity on a person’s face before. Even the memory of Plutt in his worst rages doesn’t compare. Just one look from a boy she doesn’t know makes Plutt as appealing as sunshine and rainbows.

How utterly terrifying.

☾

Her first weekend in Forks gives Rey ample opportunity to go to the auto shop. 

She’d spent every day after school locked in Maz’s garage until sundown, taking the truck completely apart. The problem turned out to be relatively simple: the battery had corroded and the ignition coil was a mess. They both needed to be replaced.

She pedals to Poe’s Auto Shop, wrapped up tight in her coat and hat, but still shivering in the autumn wind.

A crisp twenty-dollar bill burns a hole in her pocket; she feels the weight of it each time her feet make a full rotation. Maz had stopped her on the way out and thrust the money at her under the guise of an allowance. 

Rey nearly refused to take it, but every dollar she’d earned had always gone to Plutt. Was it so wrong to want something that was her own, even if she didn’t earn it?

From the outside, Poe Dameron’s garage looks worn down. The ‘S’ in Shop had fallen from the sign and the brick is in dire need of a paint job.

She jumps off Maz’s bike and wheels it in, leaning it against the nearest wall next to a rack of tires.

“Hello?” She calls, hesitant to disrupt the silence. 

Underneath the car nearest her there’s the unmistakable _thunk_ of skull hitting metal, followed by a string of muttered curses. She winces sympathetically, familiar with the feeling.

A man rolls out and sits up on his creeper, rubbing the sore spot. He’s somewhere in his mid-twenties, a little short for a guy, with caramel skin and a scalp crowned by thick black curls. He looks up at her, and Rey realizes he’s remarkably handsome.

 _Not as handsome as_ — she shuts down that train of thought as soon as it enters the station. 

“Hey.” The man gives an easy smile, sauntering towards her. “Poe Dameron. I’d shake your hand but,” his grin turns sheepish as he shows her his dirty palms, “motor oil.”

To her surprise, she chuckles. “That’s okay. I’m Rey.” 

He quirks an eyebrow. “Rey Johnson?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

“A newcomer? In Forks? Baby, you’re big news.”

Poe Dameron draws another laugh out of her. He has a rough charm that is, unbelievably, sort of delightful. “Must not have a lot of news around here.”

“Shockingly, no.” He wipes his hands on his jumpsuit, coated in a variety of brownish stains, and crosses arms toned from a lifetime of manual labor. “What can I help you with, Rey Johnson?”

“Just Rey.”

“Okay, just Rey, what can I do for you?”

“I’m fixing a 1962 Ford Pickup that needs its battery and ignition coil replaced. You wouldn’t happen to have those on hand, would you?”

“Battery for a 1962 pickup and an ignition coil...” He scratches his stubbled chin. “I don’t have them in right now, but we order all our parts from this chain in Seattle. Let me see if they got what you need.”

He vanishes into the office for a moment, returning with a catalog and dropping it on the metal work table with a thud. 

He licks a finger, rifling through the crinkled pages with practiced ease. “Ah!” Poe jabs at the page. “Here. I can put in the order for you today. Should arrive in about two weeks. Give or take a couple days.”

Rey’s excitement melts when something unpleasant occurs to her. “How much will it cost?”

He takes a second to think. “Let’s see, about two-hundred dollars for the parts plus an additional five-hundred to install them.”

Rey blanches. “Oh, I don’t need them installed, I can do it myself, but…” 

_Two hundred dollars?_ Where is she going to get that kind of money? She supposes she could ask Maz for a loan, but just thinking about asking for more when the old woman has already given her so much, makes her sick. Maz can’t make that much from her produce and she has bills to pay. 

“I can’t afford two hundred.” She alternates her weight to her other foot, ashamed to make her lack of financial privilege known to a complete stranger.

Poe gives her a thoughtful look, raking intelligent brown eyes over her thin frame. “You said you could install the parts yourself?”

“Yeah. I grew up in an auto shop.” _Working for nothing._

“How old are you?”

“Almost eighteen.”

Poe nods, once, and slams the catalog shut. “Tell you what, Rey.” He gestures to the car he was working on when she arrived, “If you can tell me what’s wrong with it, I’ll let you work off the cost of the parts.”

She perks up. “Really?”

“Yup. Get on under there.”

Rey sprints to the car. It’s a 2005 Honda: safe, dependable, boring. Much like Forks. 

Lowering herself onto the creeper, she glides under the vehicle and runs her fingers over the metal. She furrows her brow, tuning out everything else as she tinkers with each part.

She doesn’t know how long she works, but eventually she finds the source of the problem. Sliding out and standing up, she unkinks her muscles with an indulgent stretch. 

Poe’s leaning against the worktable, fiddling with a valve. “Figured it out?”

She nods, a grin of victory spreading across her face. This high— solving a mechanical problem— she’ll never tire of.

He sets his project aside, motioning for her to continue.

“Pilot bearing is faulty and it’s causing problems with the transmission.”

“Course of action?”

“Well, you’ll definitely have to replace the pilot bearing but, just to be on the safe side, I would also replace the entire transmission. Who knows what kind of damage the rust on the bearing could have caused?”

Poe appraises her with surprised approval. His laughter is throaty and warm, a little on the rough side. It suits him.

“Welcome aboard, Rey Johnson.”

☾

Rey takes a different path back to Maz’s, her heart light as air. Not only will she get the parts she needs for free, but she’ll also get to work with cars a couple days a week.

She’s looking to her left, about to cross the street, when she notices a small bakery down the road. It’s tiny, easily missable even though the building’s painted light pink. _Mos Eisley Cupcakes_ , the sign reads in a cursive script meant to look like frosting.

Rey suddenly craves a cupcake.

She has that twenty dollars from Maz. Is this what she wants to spend it on? The bakery looks fancy, it’s gourmet and out of her comfort zone, but Rey’s had no reason to enjoy the minor pleasures of life until now.

Her stomach emits a loud gurgle, reminding her she hasn’t eaten in a couple hours and effectively making up her mind. 

The shop bell issues a pleasant tinkle as she pushes into the store. The sweet smell of vanilla and syrupy sugar and frosting fills her nose, and her mouth fills with saliva. 

“Hi! Welcome to Mos Eisley Cupcakes! What can I get for you today?” The girl behind the counter flashes Rey a set of crooked teeth imprisoned by braces.

“Umm...” Rey approaches the counter like a moth drawn to a flame. There’s at least thirty different flavors in the display case and she presses a palm to the glass hungrily, literally a kid in a candy store. “How much is four cupcakes?”

“$18.99.”

Her eyes bulge out of her head. _Twenty dollars for four cupcakes?! That should be illegal._ She would get one and save the rest of her money. But… the strawberry cupcake with buttercream frosting looked so good and so did the peanut-butter chocolate one and the lemon meringue and the mint chocolate chip…

 _Fuck it._ She points to the ones she wants. “I’ll take those four, please.”

She hands the girl her twenty-dollar bill and pockets the change, tapping her foot as she waits for the employee to pack the treats in a rose-colored box. She’s accepted the box, thanked the girl, and is turning to find a seat in the café area, preferably by the window, when _they_ enter.

Finnigan and Rosemary Organa.

They’re every bit as elegant as usual, sailing into the cupcake shop as if on a cloud. They’re holding hands and as Finnigan leans in to whisper in Rosemary’s ear, the girl glances up and catches Rey staring.

Flushing, she averts her gaze and, thanking the worker again, attempts to head out the door. She’ll eat the cupcakes at Maz’s house.

She’s nearly outside when a melodious voice rings out—

“Rey, right?”

_Crap._

She’s loath to turn. “Yeah,” she mumbles, embarrassed to be embarrassed. What is it about these people that she finds so intimidating? 

“Come sit with us.”

 _What?_ She’s bewildered and about to refuse, but there’s steel in Rosemary’s eyes.

Rey acquiesces with a reluctant nod.

Rosemary places a slight hand on Finnigan’s arm. The pitch black color of her eyes that captured Rey’s attention in the cafeteria is more pronounced this close up. “The usual?”

Finnigan rolls his eyes affectionately. “I know.” 

He presses a kiss to her forehead and then Rosemary dances through the sea of tables to a booth by the window, not so much as glancing behind her, confident that Rey will follow. 

Rey does, more out of intense curiosity than anything else. The Organas intrigue her. 

She slips into the seat across from Rosemary, setting her cupcakes in front of her but not opening the box, sharp apprehension devouring her appetite.

“Rey Johnson. You’re new to Forks.” It’s not a question.

How is it possible for someone to be so beautiful? Rosemary has the same allure she’d felt from Benjamin— though not as compelling. Still, it’s impossible to look away from her face.

“Yeah,” she says dumbly.

“I’m Rosemary.” She indicates behind her. “That’s Finnigan.”

Rey pretends she doesn’t know this. “Oh. Cool.”

“What do you think of Ben?”

She chokes on her spit.

“Lighten up Rose, Jesus.” She’s saved from having to come up with an answer by the return of Finnigan. 

He’s holding a single dark chocolate cupcake on a tea plate, which he lays in front of Rosemary. He seats himself next to her, one strong arm extending over the back of her chair. The exposed skin of his forearm is smooth and perfect. Again, she's reminded of royalty.

“What?” Rosemary whines. “He won’t tell us anything.”

“You’ve spoken to him?” Rey blurts out and then immediately wants to smack herself on the forehead. Of course, they have, they’re his siblings.

“Yes, we’ve spoken to him.” Finnigan’s eyes are warm and very kind— despite the unsettling shade of black.

She fidgets. They’re too much like Benjamin’s. “Is he sick or something?”

Rosemary’s mouth twitches. “Or something.”

Finnigan throws a stern look in her direction. “He hasn’t been feeling well.” 

He cocks his head, surveying her in a way that makes Rey feel like an ant under a microscope. She shifts, wondering if her hair looks weird or if she has dirt on her face.

“We’re going to be friends, Rey.” Rosemary announces with a resolute air, like she’d just stated the sky was blue. 

She can’t have heard that right. “What?”

“We’ll be wonderful friends. Right, Finn?”

“ _Exceptional_ friends.”

She tenses. “I don’t have friends.”

“What about the people you sit with at lunch?”

Rey shakes her head vigorously. “Those aren’t my friends. Those are just people I sit with.” Her hands clench on the table, veins rippling.

Rosemary grabs her fist and lies it flat, covering it tenderly with her palm. Her skin is absurdly cold and Rey flinches on impulse. 

She tries to pull back, but Rosemary’s grip tightens. The girl is deceptively strong.

“We’re being genuine, Rey.” She implores, her too-black eyes beseeching. “We want to be friends with you.”

Rey shoots a glance at Finnigan, who’s looking at her with the same expression Rosemary is. Like they know her. Worse, like they _understand_ her.

It’s almost more frightening than the unadulterated contempt on their brother's face.

She yanks her hand back, thankful when Rosemary lets her go. Standing, she grabs her box of cupcakes. “I don’t have friends. Sorry.”

Rey runs from the coffee shop, heart pounding against her ribcage.

☾

Maz is brewing something in a pot on the stove when Rey crashes through the door. It doesn’t smell like food.

She doesn’t care about food right now. She feels exposed. Vulnerable. Feelings she’s not used to experiencing in the company of other people. Feelings that a conversation with two strangers should not have brought up.

She needs to run. Run _far_ away.

“Rey? Is that you?”

 _Who else would it be?_ She thinks sourly.

Maz steps out into the hallway, holding a wooden spoon coated in some weird dark green goop with Bebe wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. 

Rey must have a weird expression on her face, because Maz squints even though she’s wearing her glasses. “What’s wrong?”

She forces her shoulders to relax. “Nothing.”

“How was the Auto Shop? Did Poe get you everything you need?”

“They didn’t have the parts I needed in stock so he ordered them. We talked about cars and he offered me a chance to help out in the shop a couple times a week,” she says, tacking on the last part quickly. 

She doesn’t tell Maz that she’ll be working off the cost of the parts. The woman would insist on paying for them.

Maz’s eyebrows raise. “Oh. Well, that was nice of him.” Bebe’s tail curls around her upper arm as she goes back into the kitchen. “Wash up. Dinner will be ready in a couple minutes.” 

It takes everything in Rey to not turn tail and vanish into the woods at once. 

Then, the smell of a delicious, home cooked meal wafts forward to meet her and she remembers the cupcakes in her backpack. 

Her stomach growls. Dumping her backpack by the front door, she heads into the kitchen, anxious to eat.

☾

Rey has trouble falling asleep that night, despite her full belly.

Her brain won’t stop echoing with one question: _Why would Rosemary and Finnigan want to be my friend if their brother hates me?_

She doesn’t trust them. She doesn’t trust anyone.

Most especially the Organas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FEEL LIKE THIS CHAPTER IS LOWKEY BORING BUT IT'S NECESSARY FOR THE PLOT SO STICK WITH ME!
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	5. Jannah, Jacen, Jaina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exactly a week later! Be proud of me for sticking to my update schedule in the hectic process of returning home because of this virus! Hope everyone is staying safe and washing their hands. :)

Monday is clear and bright. 

Even though the sun is out, the weather isn’t what she’s used to. The temperature hovers somewhere around fifty degrees, far from Phoenix’s average of ninety.

However, it _is_ sunnier than it was when Rey went hiking. When Rey first saw Benjamin.

So, when she walks into the cafeteria, she’s in the best mood she’s been in since Marina told her Plutt was dead.

Her happiness is made of glass. It shatters when she sees the Organa’s table.

Empty.

Blinking, she sits next to Jess, pulling her lunch from her backpack in a sort of daze.

Benjamin has been absent for a whole week. Now his siblings are gone too. What does this mean? Is she so abhorrent she’s scared away an entire family? Does this have something to do with the cupcake shop? She was sure Rosemary and Finnigan had been fucking with her. That they were aware of Benjamin’s hatred and getting in on it— making a joke of the orphan.

Rey sits in silence as Jess, Kaydel, and Keyan talk about something she doesn't bother to pay attention to. Her anxiety whirls up from the pit of her stomach and oozes out of her pores, becoming palpable and thick. Her skin itches with it and she can’t help but blurt out—

“Where are the Organas?”

Her tablemates pause their conversation, their heads swiveling at once to face her. For a second, the urge to giggle wars with her apprehension— with that synchronized movement, the group of friends looked like three baby owls.

The apprehension wins, so Rey doesn’t do anything but hold her sandwich like a lifeline. 

Kaydel slants her eyes towards the table that, due to some unspoken rule, is only ever occupied by the team of adopted siblings. She looks mildly surprised to find it empty. “Must be time for one of their family camping trips.”

Jess sighs, the sound wistful with a tinge of jealousy. “I wish that would work on my parents. I tried, but they laughed right in my face.”

“Once or twice a month, it’ll be relatively sunny. Or should I say slightly _less_ rainy? Anyway, when that happens Dr. Organa pulls all her children out of school for the week to go camping. For family bonding or some shit,” Keyan explains, noticing Rey’s confusion.

She nods, her forehead smoothing as she remembers him saying something similar last week.

Jess sighs once more. “The Organas are so lucky.”

“Lucky? Spending a week with your family in the wilderness doesn’t sound lucky to me. No electricity. No cell service. No bathrooms. _Ugh_. I’ll pass,” Kaydel shudders. “Plus,” she reminds Jess, “You hate bugs.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jess says, sounding crestfallen. “I forgot.”

“So, none of them will be here this week?” She asks, looking from Jess to Kaydel.

“What’s wrong, Arizona?” Keyan teases. “I thought you didn’t like Benjamin Solo?”

Her cheeks burn. “I don’t.”

All three of them squint at her suspiciously and she grapples for a response that would get them off her back. In her haste, she ends up landing on the truth. “I just— I saw Rosemary and Finnigan over the weekend. At Mos Eisley Cupcakes.”

Jess lets out a _way_ too dramatic gasp, Kaydel’s eyes grow as wide as saucers, and a fry falls from Keyan’s mouth and lands in his soda.

“Oh my god, tell us _everything_.” Overexcited and hungry for details, Kaydel’s hand shoots out and encloses Rey’s forearm in a vice-like grip.

Kaydel may be in shape from cheer, but Rey’s wiry and tough from years of defending herself and she hates being touched, so she twists her arm and forcibly removes it. Kaydel’s mouth opens in shock, but Rey pretends she doesn’t see it.

“Nothing happened, they just asked me to sit with them,” She winds her arms across her chest in case the cheerleader tries to reach out again. “Then they said they wanted to be friends.”

The answering silence drifts on for so long Rey wonders if she’d spoken a different language. She raises her head and finds three identical dumbfounded expressions gazing back at her.

“They _what_?” Jess has the look of a kid who’s just been told they could open all their Christmas presents a week early.

“They asked if I would be friends with them.”

Jess and Kaydel share an animated look, scarcely daring to believe it. Keyan’s mouth is still hanging open.

“What did you say?” Kaydel demands.

“Thanks, but no.”

“Thanks, but no?” Jess cries, scandalized. “Rey, it’s the _Organas_ , they—”

“Why would they want to be friends with you?” It seems Keyan has finally pulled himself out of his stupor. He raises his hands in defense when he realizes how his words came off. “Not that you’re not cool, but the Organas never even _talk_ to anyone outside their group. Much less make a friend. Why now? Why _you_?”

Rey stares off into the distance, her mind teeming with the same negative speculations that’d haunted her since Saturday, “I don’t know.”

☾

The rest of the school week passes much like the previous. Except not one Organa shows up.

The weather stays consistently warm and sunny— well, warm and sunny for Forks— but she can’t enjoy the lull in rain as fully as she would like. 

She has to speak to Benjamin. She _has_ to know why he acted like that. Why Rosemary and Finnigan spoke to her in the cupcake shop. 

Rey isn’t smart. She’s not nice, funny, or particularly pretty. The one thing she has going for her is the ability to survive at any cost. And the key component to survival is information. She needs to have all the facts. Not knowing, not being able to piece reality together, is killing her. Making her skin tight with unease.

Keyan slams his lunch tray down next to hers. Maz had given her another allowance and Rey had spent it by heaping a tray full of the fancy cafeteria food. Her old high school had hot lunches, but the kind provided by the state, not this gourmet shit. 

“Why are you sitting here?” Keyan asks as Kaydel and Jess slide into the seats across from them.

Rey’s fourth period had let out early, so she had rushed to the cafeteria and grabbed a small table shoved up against the far wall, hoping her unwanted entourage would get the hint. 

No such luck. “Uh, someone was sitting at our other table,” she lies smoothly.

“Rey,” Kaydel drizzles ranch on her salad, “Next Saturday we’re going to La Push. To First Beach. Come with us?”

She pauses chewing. “November starts next week.”

“So?”

“So, it’ll be cold? And rainy?”

Kaydel and Keyan bite back their laughter, but Jess giggles. “We don’t actually swim.”

Rey looks between them and feels like she’s missing something. “Then why go to the beach…”

“To hang out,” Kaydel says as if it’s obvious that an autumnal beach trip is a good time. 

Maybe in Forks it is. To Rey, who associates hot sand and sunburns with the beach, it most decidedly is not. “I’ll pass.”

Keyan groans, “Oh, come on, Arizona. It’ll be fun.”

“We’ll bring snacks and stuff!” Jess says brightly.

“I don’t like the cold. Or the wet,” she scrunches up her face in distaste, reliving the prick of bitter rain that welcomed her to Washington. A part of her, the distant, unconscious part that holds onto unpleasant memories, remembers another rainstorm. One that left her teeth chattering and alone on the steps of a church, dwarfed by a blue backpack which held nothing but a paper with her name, a change of clothes, and two granola bars. 

“It won’t be that cold,” Kaydel promises. “Come!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Keyan knocks his shoulder with hers and Rey bites her lip to keep from reflexively throwing a punch. “You’ve been here like, what, almost three weeks? And you haven’t seen any of the cool parts of Washington.”

“There are cool parts?” She raises an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Arizona, you’re just gonna have to come with us and find out,” Keyan winks. 

Against her resolve not to be friendlier than the bare minimum mandated by her promise to Marina, Rey feels the corners of her mouth twitch up in half-smile. 

“Think about it?” Jess pleads. “We’d really love to hang out with you outside of school.”

Rey sighs, “I guess I’ll think about it.”

☾

Friday is the first day she gets to work at Poe’s Auto Shop.

After school, she hops on Maz’s bike and lets the rhythmic pedaling motion sweep her into its world, the lush green environment blurring as she rides, until she’s right outside the shop with no memory of the journey she took to get there. 

Which is good. The less Rey thinks the better, since her thoughts are dominated by a certain family and their weird behavior. 

She repeats the actions of a couple days ago: Rey disembarks and steers the bike into the shop, leaning it against the nearest wall.

Unlike before, the shop floor isn’t seemingly empty. It’s filled with the sounds of amiable laughter.

A fair woman sits on the worktable, devouring a sandwich and swinging her legs in the air like a tiny kid. Another woman leans next to her, tall, with brown skin and a yellow bandana wrapped around her forehead to keep the black curls out of her face while she works. Their eyes are on a man hunched under a car hood. His back is to Rey and all she can see of him is his unruly mop of ash blonde hair; the same as the woman on the table. 

All three of them are wearing dirty navy jumpsuits emblazoned with the logo of the auto shop on the left breast and their names on the right. The ease of their conversation belies the nature of their relationship: these people are friends, not just coworkers.

She interrupts, guilty for disturbing their camaraderie. “Hey, is Poe around?”

They stop and look at her. The man working on the car straightens and turns around, grabbing a rag and wiping off his wrench. His eyes are the color of sea glass and his bone structure is thin and delicate. He looks like the male version of the woman seated on the table. She figures they must be related.

The woman with the bandana speaks first. She’s more of a girl really, eighteen or nineteen years old. She smiles and extends a calloused hand to Rey. “Rey Johnson, right? Poe said you’d be coming by. Jannah.” Rey accepts her handshake and Jannah envelops her hand in a firm grip that tells Rey the woman isn’t aware of her own strength. 

Jannah gestures to the other woman. “This is Jai."

Jai hops down from the table, swallowing the last bite of her sandwich and nodding politely in Rey’s direction. "My real name's Jaina, but everybody calls me Jai.”

“And that’s Jacen. They're twins.” The man mirrors his sister with a nod of greeting and comes to stand next to Jai, their matching sets of light eyes roaming over Rey curiously. “We’re part of Poe’s—” Jannah seems to catch herself. “We work for Poe.” She laughs, the sound tinny with sudden nervousness. “Obviously.”

“Where is Poe?” Rey asks.

“He should be back soon,” Jai says. “He had to run up to Port Angeles to pick up some parts for this baby.” She crosses her arms and nods at the car in front of them, the one Jacen had his nose in.

For the first time, Rey takes a real look at the car. Then, she does a double take. “Is that a Volvo P1800?”

Jacen runs a loving hand over the cherry red hood. “With its original paint.”

“Beautiful.” Rey murmurs, mimicking Jacen’s motions on the other side.

“Poe said you grew up in a garage?” Jannah leans back against the big metal work table. 

“Yeah,” Rey says absentmindedly as she stoops to examine the rims. Silence follows her affirmation. Jannah clearly expects her to expand on that, but when Rey offers no further comment, she doesn’t push.

“What did Poe say you would help with?” Jai’s pulled her light hair back and rolled up her sleeves, intending to get back to work.

“I don’t know. He just said to come whenever I have a chance so I can work off the debt for the parts I need.”

Three pairs of eyes gleam. 

“What are you fixing?” Jacen asks.

“1962 Ford Pickup. Needs a new battery and ignition coil.” She grins when thinly veiled disappointment flits across their faces. “I know, it’s no vintage Volvo P1800 with the original paint.”

Jai, Jannah, and Jacen all laugh and Rey smiles wider. The ice has been broken.

“Well, he didn’t tell us anything other than who you are and that you’d be coming.” Jannah rolls her eyes fondly. “Man, I love Poe, but he’s so disorganized. How he ran this shop before Zorii, I have no idea.”

“Zorii?” Rey goes to stand next to Jannah, giving the twins the room they need to work.

“Yeah, Poe’s girlfriend. They run this place. She’s with Jyn and Cassian on a road trip right now.” Jai extends a hand in Jannah’s direction and Jannah reaches back and passes her a pair of heavy duty pliers.

“Jyn and Cassian...”

“They also work here. Stick around and you’ll get to know everyone soon enough.”

“So, there’s,” Rey does some quick mental math, “seven of you working here?”

Jacen drags the back of his hand across his forehead and leaves behind a streak of oil. Jai giggles, taking a clean rag from her back pocket and roughly, yet at the same time tenderly, scrubbing it on her brother’s skin. He pretends to be annoyed with her fussing, but lets her do it anyway, laughing along. Something twists in Rey’s chest at the sight.

Jannah nods, pulling her back into the conversation. “We all live here too.”

Jai reaches up and ruffles her twin’s hair, sticking the dirty rag back in her jumpsuit. She flashes Jannah a lopsided grin. “One big happy family.”

“Is there room for seven people?” Rey wonders aloud, looking around the auto shop. The place is small, which makes sense because Forks is an insignificant, tiny town. There’s no way the shop gets a lot of customers. Privately, she thinks Poe doesn’t need to be employing six other people. He could probably get by with four. “Where do you sleep?”

“There’s two more stories to this building.” Jannah points to a rickety wooden spiral staircase tucked in the far corner of the shop. Rey has to crane her neck around the Volvo to see it. “It’s a little cramped, but luckily Jyn and Cassian are dating as well as Poe and Zorii. Each couple shares a bedroom.”

“Thank god we room together, Jannah.” Jai joins them, reaching for her water bottle and taking a long swig. “If I had to share with Jacen, I’d kill myself.”

“Hey!” Jacen protests, straightening and pointing the wrench at Jai. “You’re no dream to room with either, dear sister.”

“I am _perfect_. Right, Jannah?”

When Jannah doesn’t respond, Jai spins on her, outraged.

Jacen tosses his head back and barks a hearty laugh, the sound echoing around the shop. “See?”

“Jannah!” Jai exclaims, hitting her on the shoulder.

Jannah throws up her hands in self-defense. “You leave your dirty clothes everywhere!”

“She’s done that since we were kids!”

“Excuse me, Mr. I-leave-food-in-my-room until-it-grows-mold,” Jaina turns on her brother, hands on her hips. “You’re one to talk!”

The three dissolve into the lighthearted bickering that only exists between people who deeply love and respect each other. A twinge of jealousy blooms in Rey’s stomach, but it doesn’t overwhelm her. She laughs along as they banter, a small but genuine smile creeping over her face.

There’s the sound of a car pulling up, its tires crunching over the gravel and bringing the argument to a halt. The motor cuts out and a beat later, Poe is striding into the shop, his heavy work boots making his footsteps loud like thunder. He’s dressed in a form-fitting white Henley with dark jeans that cling to his strong thighs. Rey’s once again reminded of his conventional beauty, but it does nothing for her. _Huh_.

“Just Rey!” Poe grins, spreading his arms out in greeting. “Glad you could make it, kid. Put in the order for your parts yesterday.”

“Thanks,” Rey beams back. There’s something about Poe that could draw a smile or a laugh out of her before she’s even aware of her neurons firing the impulse. He’s the first person in Forks she actually likes. With Poe, what you see is what you get. Rey respects that.

Poe jabs a thumb in the direction he came from. “Go grab the parts, guys, and keep working on the Volvo. Needs to be done by tomorrow, remember?” He tosses Jannah the keys as she passes and the trio leaves, resuming their banter.

“So, you met some of my crew.” Poe takes up the spot that Jannah had occupied.

“Yeah.” Rey tucks a wisp of hair behind her ear. “They seem cool.”

“Wow.”

“What?” She shifts self-consciously as Poe rakes his gaze over her.

“Nothing.” He offers a loose shrug. “Something tells me you don’t usually say that about people.”

Rey looks away. “Most people aren’t cool.”

Poe knocks his shoulder with hers. “Well then, I’m glad we aren’t most people.” He jerks his head in the direction of the office. “C’mon, I’ll show you what to do.”

☾

Her first task at Poe’s Auto Shop is to organize the files. Jannah had been right when she said Poe was disorganized, their records are a mess. He tells her that Zorii meant to do it, but she was called out of town on an emergency.

She wrinkles her brow. “I thought she was on a road trip with Jyn and Cassian?”

“What?”

“That’s what Jannah told me.”

“Oh, right. Right.” Poe clears his throat and sits behind the desk, tugging the computer’s keyboard closer so he can type.

She settles herself on the ground in front of the file cabinet, her legs spread wide around the paper stacks that Poe had pulled out. She was disappointed she wouldn’t be working as a mechanic immediately, but Poe said the only order they had in right now was the Volvo and Jai, Jacen, and Jannah didn’t need any help. Rey’s still glad to be here, glad to have a place that feels familiar to her, glad to be out of Maz’s house as much as possible. 

She likes the old woman, is thankful for every kindness she’s shown her, but she would never completely gain Rey’s trust. It's impossible for Rey to trust any adult, much less a foster parent. Rey may be thankful for the things Maz has given her, but with every new thing, no matter how small, Rey grows more and more guilty. She doesn’t deserve Maz’s gifts.

 _It’s only until I turn eighteen_ , Rey thinks, scanning a damage report. _Then she’ll kick me out and I won’t have to worry about it anymore._

She stops when she reads the name on the next folder: Solo, H. “Poe?”

“Hmm?”

“Who’s ‘Solo, H’?”

Behind her, the typing pauses briefly before resuming at an increased speed. “Han Solo. The sheriff.”

Rey remembers the day she’d first seen the Organas. Kaydel had said the sheriff and his wife adopted them. And the name on the file was Solo, like Benjamin. “He adopted the Organas, right?” It’s an effort to sound casual.

The typing stops. “What do you know about the Organas?” Poe’s voice is the sternest she’s ever heard.

She twists so she can see him, and his handsome face is serious. “They go to my school.”

Poe’s expression relaxes somewhat but doesn’t lose its edge. “I forgot they go to high school.”

“So, this is their dad?” _Benjamin’s biological father?_

Poe sighs. “Yeah. Has a vintage Corellian that needed a touchup about a year ago.”

Her mouth falls open. “He has a _Falcon_?”

Poe’s eyes glaze over. “Most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Chrome plating, real leather seating… she’s a dream.”

“They only made a limited number.”

“Five, if I remember correctly.”

“How did he get his hands on one?” She’s awed by this man she’s never met. Fascinated by the myth of him and how he relates to Benjamin. _Is Han Solo where Benjamin gets his temper from?_

Poe snorts. “The Organa-Solos are stupid rich. Han Solo’s wife, Leia Organa, she’s chief physician at Forks Hospital. Before that, she was head of the surgical department at some high-end hospital in Seattle. That family’s drowning in so much money, half the time they don’t know what to do with it.”

She thinks back to their expensive clothing and traces her fingers over the written _Solo_. “What else do you know about them?”

Poe cocks his head. “Why do you want to know about the Organas?”

She shrugs, trying to come up with some explanation that's not: _Benjamin Solo saved me from a bear, then treated me like he was plotting my murder, THEN disappeared for two weeks and I think I’m loosing my mind because I can’t stop thinking about it._ “My, uh, friend, Keyan says that they’re a cult.”

“Keyan Farlander? I know him, he’s a little shit.” He shakes his head, sighing. “They’re not a cult, but they are dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“Trust me. I know I don’t know you that well, Rey, but I can tell we’re gonna be friends and I look out for what’s mine. The Organas are dangerous people, _especially_ Benjamin Solo.”

Her initial impression in the cafeteria, the memory of Benjamin’s behavior two weeks ago and Finnigan and Rosemary’s black eyes up close, combined with the look on Poe’s face, inclines her to believe him.

“It’s in your best interest to stay away from them. Far away.”

“You’re not the first person who’s said that.” Rey mutters, reminded of Keyan’s similar words. 

“And I won’t be the last. Promise me you’ll avoid them at all costs.”

No more promises. Marina’s is enough. And she doesn’t _want_ to avoid the Organas. There’s something hidden there and she’s determined to uncover it. If only to satisfy her own curiosity.

She looks Poe dead in the eyes. And lies.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	6. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben is an asshole right now, I AM AWARE. But he's going to get better, don't worry.
> 
> I've decided to make an update schedule since I'm posting pretty regularly. You can keep up with it [here](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/updates).
> 
> **TW: Rey has a PANIC ATTACK in this chapter. It's the second scene if you would like to skip. (I divide my scenes in this work with the crescent moon symbol.) MENTIONS OF WEED. MENTIONS OF UNDERAGE SMOKING. ALLUSIONS TO REY'S CHILDHOOD ABUSE.**

She spends both Saturday and Sunday at Poe’s Auto Shop, waking early and heading back late to where Maz waits with a home cooked meal.

Jannah takes her on a tour of the place and shares her lunch with her.

Jacen lets her help with the engine replacement on a Toyota. 

Jai brings her to their outdoor punching bag and gives Rey a few pointers. They spar during break on Sunday and Jai becomes the first person to ever kick Rey’s ass.

Mostly though, she helps Poe with whatever he needs. Jannah was right, the man is so disorganized it’s a wonder he can function. 

☾

On Halloween, the Organas reappear. 

In the cafeteria, surrounded by people in cheap costumes, they stick out more than usual in their crisp designer clothing. Today, they seem even more disdainful as they survey the lunch room, Benjamin not among them.

_Where the hell is he?_

Someone wraps their arms around her waist from behind, as something plastic presses against her neck.

She doesn’t think. Years of living in a volatile household have honed her reflexes to nothing short of a weapon. Dropping her lunch tray and backpack, she spins and knees the person in the gut. When he grunts and topples over, she wraps an arm around his head, trapping him in an impenetrable chokehold and tightening, tightening, tightening.

“Rey!” The boy chokes out, his thin arms scrabbling at hers. “Rey, let me go, it’s me! It’s Keyan!”

The name dimly registers through the rush of adrenaline and panic. She raises her head, meeting Kaydel and Jess’ horrified gazes from their lunch table. They’ve saved two seats: one for Keyan and one for her. 

The cafeteria has gone very quiet. 

As the veil of fear lifts, she comes back to herself and pulls him closer, whispering harshly in his ear. “Don’t fucking touch me ever again, Keyan, I mean it.” She shoves him away.

He sputters for air while Jess and Kaydel rush over. “I’m sorry, Rey. I just— I’m a vampire.”

“What?”

He picks up something small and white and pops it in his mouth. When he speaks, his speech is garbled from the object and the accent he puts on. “You know, ‘I vant to suck your blood!’”

The plastic— a cheap set of fangs. Rey can see him clearly now, can see the velvet cape and white face paint, the fake blood dripping down his chin. 

Jess throws her a look. “It was a joke, Rey. You didn’t have to react like that.”

“No, it was my fault,” Keyan protests, his voice croaky. Kaydel offers him her water bottle and he takes a grateful swig. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Suddenly, Rey feels bad. “It’s fine,” she mutters, swinging down to grab her backpack. Her hamburger, fries, and chips are strewn about the floor. Her stomach rolls looking at all the wasted food. 

As the students realized no harm was done and there wasn’t going to be a fight, the clamorous noise of the cafeteria resumes. 

She’s surprised an administrator hadn’t come to break them up. That had never happened in the Phoenix, there were too many fights for the teachers to care, but she’d glimpsed it on TV. Maybe that didn’t happen in real life. Maybe it was a universal thing that no teachers cared about their students.

“Rey, I’m really, really sorry.” Keyan looks desperate. 

“I said it was fine.”

Kaydel says, “Let’s just go eat.”

Jess nods and the two of them start to head back to their table. Keyan lingers, staring at her. “Rey, please. Come eat with us. It won’t happen again.”

Everything is too bright and too loud. “Nah. Tell Kaydel I’ll see her in English.”

Turning to go, she catches sight of the Organas. Gwendolyn and Armitage look bored, but Rosemary and Finnigan have matching looks of concern and maybe...amusement?

As she leaves, she thinks she sees Rosemary laughing.

☾

She pushes into the girl’s bathroom, relieved beyond belief to find it empty. She locks herself in the last stall, sinking to the ground as the panic grips her by the throat. 

Images of Plutt flash across her mind. His meaty ringed fists. His beady eyes, glimmering with hate. His hot breath fanning across her face, smelling like beer...

Her own breath comes in shuddering gasps. Shakily, she pushes her hair out of her face. Bile rises in the back of her throat. _I need a cigarette._

Rey had never been a chain smoker, in fact she found smoking disgusting— Plutt went through at least a pack a day— but the only thing that calmed her down when she got like this was a cigarette. 

Or weed. But she could never afford her own supply and could only smoke at school, out on the blacktop when the stoners were feeling generous and she was feeling flirty. 

In contrast, cigarettes were everywhere. Like Maz’s herbs, they covered every surface of Plutt’s house, of his garage.

She needs one now. Needs it to stop the shivering. Needs it so she could breathe again.

But she doesn’t have one and so she quietly shakes apart.

☾

It takes a while to put herself back together. By the time she’s managed it, she’s ten minutes late to English. 

She pushes the door open, interrupting the lecture.

“You’re late, Miss Johnson.”

Rey gives a nonchalant shrug.

Holdo sighs and waves a hand behind her. “Take your seat, please.”

Rey’s about to do just that when she stops, frozen on legs still shaky.

He’s here.

Benjamin Solo.

He’s back, lounging in the chair next to hers, clad in black leather with even blacker hair falling in his face as he lazily flips through Romeo and Juliet. Like his siblings and like her, he’s not wearing a costume. _Why wasn’t he at lunch?_

She can’t breathe again. 

“Is there a problem, Miss Johnson?” Holdo’s looking at her expectantly and Rey realizes that she hasn’t moved.

“No,” she mutters and, heart in her throat and gaze on the floor, she makes her way over to Benjamin, pretending not to see Kaydel’s enthusiastic efforts to make eye contact. She’s sure the girl will corner her after class, demanding to hear her side of the story about the lunchroom incident.

She slides into her seat, perching right on the edge and pretending to be hyper-focused on whatever Holdo’s writing on the chalkboard. Still, she doesn’t have to look at him to sense the imperceptible stiffening of his posture as she nears. To anyone else it would look like nothing changed. But Rey can tell. Rey knows every muscle in his enormous body has tensed, Rey knows he’s holding his breath.

She’s tense too, she realizes. She’s holding her breath. Like her body has automatically mirrored his without her telling it to, like he’s moved so she moves.

His cloying scent is blocking her nose, eradicating the rest of her senses. Instinctively, her eyes slip closed as she inhales that thunderstorm-clove-leather smell and it’s so rich, decadent, like those cupcakes she’d bought, like consuming it too fast would make her sick. All the blood rushes to her head, and she’s suddenly trembling, flushed, as sweat beads along her brow. She swivels and discreetly fans her face, pulling a hair tie from her wrist and drawing the tangled chestnut mess into a high ponytail, exposing the tan arch of her slender neck.

She sneaks a glance at him, desperate to see his face up close even if it’s for only a second, to see if he has that same murderous glare—

He’s staring right at her, his jaw clenched so hard she swears she can hear teeth cracking. Her surroundings recede until it’s only her and Benjamin and his mouthwatering fragrance swirling in her head as she’s caught in the spiderweb of his molten amber gaze. 

He’s pulled himself so taunt he’s almost vibrating. She can’t read his intense expression, but there’s an undefinable quality to the skew of his mouth, something secret and hidden behind his amber eyes. Amber...she could have sworn they were black…

He doesn’t seem angry today, merely frustrated. 

She’ll take frustration over anger any day.

“Hi,” she whispers, the words tumbling out against her will. She’s afraid she’s broken the spell he’s weaved around them, but she has to hear his voice again and maybe, just maybe, she wants him to hear hers too. “I’m Rey.”

Strangely intense, he continues to look at her, his irritation clear, and the silence stretches on so long she turns away, a light blush dusting the tops of her cheeks.

“I know who you are.” She shivers, the reverberation of his deep voice so near to her, reluctantly given though it sounds, resonates down to her toes. “Do you know who I am?”

Rey nods, meeting his fiery gaze. “Benjamin Solo.”

His expression becomes more unreadable, so she quickly adds, “You saved me. In the meadow.”

He wrenches his gaze from hers, looking out the window and leaving Rey startlingly bereft. “What were you doing there?”

“Hiking.” She pauses. “What were you doing there?”

He tilts his head, smirking. “Hiking.”

He’s lying and they both know it.

She’s leaning forward, intending to press the issue, so unbelievably curious about this mysterious boy, but no sooner has she shifted her body weight towards him then he’s pulling away with a pinched off expression like he’s smelled something rotten, his chair scraping against the floor. It stings and reminds Rey of his behavior two weeks ago and her indignation about it.

She gets straight to the point. “What’s your problem?”

He raises an eyebrow. “My problem?”

Annoyance spikes red-hot. Her mounting confusion about him and his family, and about Rosemary and Finnigan in the cupcake shop, in addition to what happened with Keyan, adds fuel to the fire.

Rey has never been one to play games, and so she attacks this conversation with the same bluntness that had her racking up split lips and bruises at Phoenix Central High School. “I know you haven’t been at school because of me. I heard you trying to change your schedule and I want to know what the hell I did to you, Benjamin Solo, that made you hate me. Cause two of your siblings are messing with me and I’ll tell you something,” she juts her chin out at him, “I don’t like being fucked with.”

Surprise and something that she thinks resembles admiration flickers briefly across his creamy skin, before he’s throwing up his mask of boredom. “Bold of you to assume everything is about you, Johnson.” He drawls. “You presume that I care about you, much less think about you. I can assure you I do neither of those things. If you must know, I had an issue to attend to the week before last and this past week, my family and I were camping. I have been trying to switch this period since classes started.”

She recoils, reeling. That doesn’t make sense. She had been so _sure_ that the reason he was gone was because of her. “That’s not true. The look in your eyes…”

Something of that lethal look bleeds back into Benjamin’s face. “It is true. Why would I miss two weeks of school because of _you_?”

“I don’t know,” she grits out, “that’s why I’m _asking_.”

He faces back to the front, his deep voice bitter. “Trust me, I was not gone because of you. You’re insignificant.”

It takes everything in her to continue speaking at this quasi-whisper level they’ve established. “I’m sorry you find me so _repulsive_ , but why did you have to bring your family into it?”

He twists to face her sharply. “What about my family?” 

“Rosemary and Finnigain cornered me in a cupcake shop last week. Something about wanting to be friends.”

Benjamin swears under his breath. 

She resists the urge to poke him in the chest. She has a feeling it would be too much like poking that grizzly. “What was that about?”

He twitches, like maybe he wants to lean in, but something cruel curls the corner of his mouth. “They were fucking with you. They don’t give a shit about the weird little orphan girl and neither do I, alright? Do us a favor and leave us alone.”

Her anger dissipates as rapidly as it had arrived and morphs into something small and meek. _Hurt_ , she thinks in disbelief. _I’m hurt_. She’s not weak, so why does she suddenly feel about as strong as a mouse?

Everyone inflicts damage on her. Pain is perpetual and she’s an expert in keeping it locked up. Rey is a fortress. An impregnable, iron fortress. This _hurt_ shouldn't be possible.

Numbly, she turns and faces the front of the room, her hands going limp in her lap, her lips pressed together. She misses the war fought on the field of his piquant face, the way his hands release too. He opens his mouth—

Holdo calls from the front of the class, “Mr. Solo, why don’t you read Romeo’s speech on page thirty for us?”

A flurry of pages ensues as the students scramble to find the passage, but Benjamin doesn’t so much as glance at his copy as he recites, “Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear, beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.”

The words are low and smoky, drawing Rey in. Against her conscious wishes, she peeks in his direction and his eyes meet hers. Some unquantifiable fire burns in those amber depths, some unknown phenomenon smoldering behind the tapestry of haughtiness draped across his flawless features. 

“So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows as yonder lady o’er her fellows shows. The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand.” His voice turns soft. “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

The room is silent when he finishes. Her breath catches in her lungs. _I need a fucking cigarette._

Holdo breaks the spell, “Why thank you, Benjamin, that was fantastic. Expert use of rhythm.”

Benjamin drops her gaze, hands running wildly through his hair, and stands. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t return to class. 

Benjamin Solo is a riddle wrapped in an enigma inside a locked box and Rey must get off on her own pain because she wants nothing more than to unravel him while he seems to want nothing to do with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	7. First Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost 1000 people have read this...that may not seem like a lot but I just pictured 1000 people looking back at me as I type _lmao_. That is so crazy!! Thank you SO MUCH to anyone that has read this absolute TRASH. I am putting wayyyy too much effort into this, but what's a girl to do during quarantine?
> 
> I decide to create a moodboard to help me visualize this world. [Here](https://weheartit.com/classiclibra/collections/171508084-cold-fire) it is, if you're interested!

November starts and Benjamin doesn't speak to her again.

At lunch, she forces herself not to stare at the Organas and instead actually pay attention to the ramblings of the Kaydel, Jess, and Keyan— a herculean task since she doesn’t care about who’s fucking who or which cheerleader might be pregnant. It becomes increasingly harder to not let her focus drift to Benjamin and his siblings. Rey has no idea where the willpower that got her though the last fourteen years went, but it seems to have vanished along with any sense of self-preservation.

On Thursday, she gets up to throw away her sandwich wrapper. In a flash, Rosemary is behind her.

“Rey, my brother—”

She closes her eyes. “Fuck. Off.”

She doesn’t offer Rosemary a chance to respond, stalking back to her table, and shrugging off Keyan, Jess, and Kaydel’s transparent attempts to pry.

In English, Benjamin continues to sit as far away as the seating arrangement will allow and yet, she is acutely aware of his presence, of the constant glower on his face and the stiffness in his toned muscles.

She itches to speak to him again, to hear his velvety voice echo in her direction. Only the memory of what he’d said holds her tongue.

_You’re insignificant._

Rey knows he’s right. What is she but an abandoned, abused child? 

He made his opinion of her very clear. He answered her questions. That should be it. She should want nothing to do with him.

But she can’t shake the nagging suspicion that he _lied_.

What has he done to her? Why is she so desperately curious about him? And how does she get him to admit the truth— whatever it is?

Like all aspects of existence on planet Earth, this is a fight and, in a fight, you always let your opponent show their style before you show your own. She’s circling him now, waiting for the first feint.

So, the two of them sit in tense silence as Holdo rants about the real tragedy in _Romeo and Juliet_ and she wills him to throw a punch.

Benjamin doesn’t so much as lift a finger. He may as well be a statue. Sometimes he doesn’t even appear to be breathing.

By Friday, she’s on edge and fed up. 

As soon as the bell signals the end of English, he’s the first out the door, as per usual. She shoves her books in her bag and darts after him. A claustrophobic swarm of students already fills the hallway, so she stands on her tiptoes and cranes her neck to see over the crowd. She has no idea what his next class is. It’s now or never.

Distantly, she glimpses the heel of a large brown boot turn the corner and she follows at a run, disregarding the packed corridor as she elbows people out of the way.

He’s heading outside.

She trails him, the heavy metal front doors clanging shut as she strides into the light drizzle of the outdoors. He’s at his bike already, his powerful thighs straddling the black leather of the motorcycle seat. 

Rey can appreciate any machinery, but she wouldn’t need to have any knowledge of engines to be able to see the dark beauty of Benjamin’s motorbike. It’s pristine, expensive-looking, pitch-black and red chrome plated. On the side reads _STARKILLER F034_ in raised stark silver lettering. She doesn’t know anything about motorcycles, but it's obvious that Starkiller is a well-made, ridiculously expensive machine. 

It suits him.

Benjamin’s in the process of lowering his helmet over his head when she catches up to him. The helmet clearly comes from the same family as Starkiller; it’s also shiny and obsidian but with metallic lines of silver tracing the outline of the visor instead of the red trim that runs in rivers over the body of the bike.

“Wait!” 

He freezes, the impressive helmet poised above his unruly raven waves.

 _Fuck._ She should have planned this. She has no idea what to say.

“Hi,” she settles on. Her voice is thin and weak. Clearing her throat, she tries again, stronger. “Hey.”

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look up, his gaze remaining focused on his jean-clad lap.

It’s okay. She’ll stand here until he decides to talk.

Turns out Rey doesn’t have to wait him out for long. “I told you to leave me alone.”

“You saved me and then suddenly you hate me. I just wanna know why. You owe me that much.”

“I owe you nothing,” he grits out. “And I thought I told you that I don’t care enough about you to hate you.”

“I know you’re lying. I _know_ you hate me.”

His expression is characteristically unreadable, the portrait of nonchalance painted on his angular features. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then, why—”

“Rey.” He’s aggravated to an unbelievable level, considering that the emotion seemed to have come from nowhere, the leather of the gloves he wears when he rides creaking as he tightens his grip on the helmet. “Can’t you just drop it?”

She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows, cocking a hip.

Benjamin heaves a sigh and gnashes his teeth, “I don’t hate you. But we can't be friends.”

“Why not?” Her tone is petulant and she blushes.

His amber eyes slowly track the movement of the widening capillaries in her cheeks. “Haven’t people told you to stay away from me?”

“Yes, but...” As one would approach a wild animal, she rests a hand on a handlebar. An invitation. “What if I don’t want to?” 

His full lips part and for a second, she feels victorious. She’s broken through. But, then, in the blink of an eye he slams up his walls again.

“You should.” He puts on the helmet and she mourns the loss of his face. She can see her own reflection in the visor and _wow,_ she can’t identify the wide-eyed teenager staring back at her. The girl looks young and hopeful, seventeen.

The helmet makes his speech sound funny, makes the deep timbre of his voice impossibly deeper. She suppresses a shiver. He removes her hand from his bike, the leather of his gloves brushing curiously against her bare skin. 

He hooks a foot behind the kickstand, tugging it up and revving the engine. Benjamin pulls out of the school parking lot, leaving Rey behind with no way to catch up.

☾

When she gets back to the house, Maz is outside, working in her garden. Rey approaches, her sneakers squelching in the damp mud. Bebe plods beside her dutifully, having seemingly materialized out of nowhere as soon as she’d stepped foot on the property.

Maz is humming while she trims some leafy plant, her long white dreadlocks piled on her head, held in place with a few ornate hair sticks she’d told Rey she got at a flea market in Port Angeles. The crystals around her neck clink together as she moves— a banal sound that’s quickly becoming familiar and comforting.

“Good afternoon, child,” Maz says cheerfully, not turning around.

“How did you know it was me?” Rey asks, reaching down to pick Bebe up. The cat has attached itself to her side, sleeping on her chest every night and constantly demanding to be held. She can barely walk for fear of tripping over him. Full of affection, the orange tabby rubs his face against the fabric of her hoodie and a content purr fills the dreary Forks air.

Maz continues her tender ministrations. “You have a certain presence, dear Rey. It burns exceptionally bright. A lighthouse in the middle of a hurricane. One is aware of it for miles.”

Rey doesn’t know what to make of that. She decides to write it off as one of Maz’s idiosyncrasies and opts for stroking her hand down Bebe’s spine, letting the three of them exist in comfortable silence.

☾

The weekend finds Rey slurping her coffee and looking forward to a day of in bed. Maybe she’ll go for a hike in the afternoon, spend time in the meadow— she hasn't been back since Benjamin saved her from that bear— but the morning definitely belongs to her mattress.

Someone honks out front.

Rey glances out the window to see a Barbie-pink jeep. Kaydel’s hanging out of the driver’s side, waving her arms as Jess pounds the horn.

“Crap,” Rey groans. _The beach._

“Who’s that?” Even with her thick glasses, Maz’s sight is unreliable.

“Kaydel and Jess from school.” Rey hopes they’ll go away.

“Ah, Kaydel Connix and Jessika Pava! Lovely girls. I’ve been selling to their families for years. What do they want?”

“Nothing.” Rey lifts a spoonful of Cheerios to her mouth, feigning ignorance.

Her cell phone starts buzzing on the table. She checks the caller ID and thoroughly regrets leaving it on the lunch table when she went to the bathroom last week.

She answers grudgingly. “Hello?”

“Rey! We’re outside! Beach day, remember? Come out!” Kaydel’s words are punctuated by a string of jarring honks.

“I said I might come. _Might_ is not a yes, Kaydel.”

There’s an exasperated sigh from the other line. “Yeah, well, I’m making it a yes. Come out.”

Rey fakes a yawn. “Actually, I’m in bed,” she forces herself to cough, “and I’m not feeling too great. Guess I’ll have to rain check.”

“We can see you in the kitchen,” Kaydel responds drily. 

_Damn it._

Maz chuckles.

A louder, prolonged honk. “Come out or we’re coming in! You don’t have a choice, Rey Johnson!”

The dried herbs hanging overhead catch her eye. “I think Maz needs me to help in the garden.”

Maz snatches the phone. “Kaydel? Rey will be right out.” She snaps the device shut, handing it over to Rey with a twinkle in her eye. “Go, child. You spend too much time alone.”

“I hang out with Poe,” Rey grumbles, sinking down in her chair and wishing the black-and-white tiled floor would open and swallow her whole.

“ _Poe Dameron_ is twenty-five. You need to befriend other teenagers.” Maz shoos her. “Go.”

Rey huffs, standing and jamming the flip phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “Fine,” she snaps, going to the hallway and grabbing her jacket from the coat rack. “But I’ll have you know Jannah is only nineteen.”

“Jannah Calrissian has been emancipated since she was fifteen. She’s not a teenager in the same way the kids at your school are. You need to have friends who are still young.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Rey shoves her feet into her shoes angrily, Maz’s tone letting her know that this is an argument she can’t win. “ _But I’m not going to have any fun!_ ”

“Have a good time!”

Feeling very much like she’s going to her death, she opens the front door and steps out, Bebe emerging from somewhere in the house and darting outside after her. He gives Rey a sharp glance before he runs around the side of the house and into the woods, jade eyes flashing.

 _There’s something so strange about that cat,_ she muses.

Jess honks impatiently. “C’mon, Rey!”

Rey goes down the stairs and slides into the backseat of Kaydel’s jeep next to a blonde boy. It takes her a second to realize the blonde boy is Keyan. He’s slumped against the window, flushed and sweaty, eyes half-lidded. Jess and Kaydel excitedly greet her, but she ignores them, frowning at the perspiration plastering Keyan’s hair to his forehead.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just don’t feel so good,” he rasps.

“You sure you don’t want us to take you back home?” Jess twists around from the passenger seat as Kaydel pulls away from Maz’s curb.

He shakes his head, waving off their concern. “It’s a cold. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Jess’s jaw tightens at the bite in Keyan’s voice. She whips back to the front. Her soft voice—softer when she speaks to Keyan— is sharp when she says, “Suit yourself.”

Kaydel meets his eyes in the mirror. “Don’t even _think_ about throwing up in my car.”

Keyan laughs shakily, pushing himself to sit up. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Kay.”

Rey watches the trees blur into a landscape of emerald smudges intermingled with the occasional orange or red. Autumn has truly arrived now, the air chilly and the leaves beginning to fall. She leans back against the fancy leather, tuning out the chatter. She should probably feel bad that she’s always disassociating in their company, but she finds she couldn’t care less. She’s done what Marina asked of her. 

She wonders where Benjamin is and what he’s doing.

☾

First Beach is beautiful in a desolate sort of way. The sand is a muddy tan mass littered with natural debris washed up by the tide, the shore framed by the tree line on two sides. The waves are uninviting, dark and choppy. Rey feels cold just looking at them.

Kaydel parks in the sandy lot and the two girls rush out, chattering about how excited they are for the beach day. In contrast, Keyan stumbles from the car, leaning on the outside handle for support.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rey yanks her jacket tighter as the wind picks up. Going to the beach in November was a horrible, terrible idea.

Keyan removes his own jacket. “I’m hot, are you hot?”

“No,” Rey frowns and studies him closer, taking note of the shudders that wrack his lean frame and the harsh redness of his face and neck. “Keyan, I think you have a fever.”

“Nah,” he presses a sweaty palm to his forehead. “I’m good.”

Her frown deepens. “I don’t think—” 

Kaydel interrupts by handing them each a multicolored blanket from the trunk. “Keyan said he was fine, Rey. Stop worrying. Let’s go find a good spot!”

Where she usually would have helped him, Jess throws Keyan a hurt look, one he doesn’t see, and grabs Kaydel’s hand. The two race onto the beach, giggling, their patterned blankets streaming behind them like capes. 

Keyan gives her a weak smile and jerks his head in their direction, throwing his blanket over his shoulder. “Shall we?”

She nods, wrapping her blanket around her in a futile cry for protection from the wind.

He moves to follow Kaydel and Jess, but his knees give out. Rey darts forward, catching him before he falls.

“Keyan, you’re really sick.”

He shoves her hands away. “I’m fine, I just need to sit down. Low blood-sugar.”

“Mmm-hmm,” She says sarcastically. “Low blood-sugar.”

Keyan gingerly lowers himself onto the bumper of Kaydel’s truck. “Go to Kay and Jess, I'll be right behind you.”

Rey makes a snap decision.

She sits down next to him. 

He glances over, surprised. “Rey, seriously. Go enjoy the beach.”

She snorts, “Go enjoy the cold and wet? I can do that right here, thanks.”

Keyan’s chapped lips quirk up in a rueful way. “Not loving Forks?” 

“Does anyone? I mean, talk about a small town.”

A little bit of sparkle returns to Keyan’s blue eyes. “Arizona, don’t tell me you haven’t heard the legends.”

She stares out at the choppy sea, used to Keyan’s shenanigans by now. Condemning herself to some long-winded joke with a terrible punchline, she asks, “What legends?”

His voice lowers, taking on an ominous quality that’s supposed to be scary. Instead, she has to bite her lip to stifle a laugh. 

“A long time ago, before the colonizers came, a young traveler passed through this area. He was roguish and handsome. Anyone who met him loved him and he loved them.”

Rey leans back against the trunk, regretting humoring Keyan. The boy could talk about nothing for forever. But he was sick and the storytelling was beginning to calm his shuddering, so she let him continue, trying to look like she was paying attention.

"His visit happened to coincide with that of a beautiful woman. She was different. Special. The Quileutes, the people whose land this is, revered her. She had a connection to nature that was unheard of. She could actually speak to the animals, the trees, the land itself, and anyone she mixed a salve for was automatically healed. Even if they were on the brink of death. She performed miracles using herbs and her uncanny relationship with the elements. Local history buffs think the colonizers would have burned her at the stake for being a witch.

When this traveler came, the witch was instantly enamored. Of course, he was too. They were very happy together, they were even going to get married. But then the murders started. A man with a taste for human blood tore through the coastline, slaughtering the Hoh and the Makahs, as well as the Quileutes. Men, women, children, no one was spared. He impossibly fast, strong, and _hungry_. Those who survived were extremely lucky. It’s said that newborn babies, fresh from the womb, were his favorite. That he would bite their heads off in front of their mothers.” Keyan bites the air, miming the action.

A chill runs down Rey’s spine. “That’s sick.”

He grins, “Scared, Arizona?”

She lifts her chin. “Never.”

He laughs, but the sound dissolves into a cough. He bunches forward. 

“Keyan?” She claps his back. 

He stops coughing and sits up, the shivers starting up again. Reaching next to him, he shrugs his jacket back on and copies Rey by pulling the blanket around himself. “Sorry. Tickle in my throat.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His voice is croaky, “How many times do I have to tell you guys I’m fine?” He sniffles and runs the back of his hand over his nose. “Now, where were we?”

She scruntizes him, “The dead babies.” She doesn’t quite believe him when he says he’s fine, but Keyan’s a big boy. If he needed to go home, he would use his words. 

“Ah!” He leans in, animated again. “Okay, so it became evident that this man was not a man at all, but a _bloodsucking monster_. The Quileutes gave him a name: The Cold One. As the death toll rose, they tried everything they could. They attacked him with spears, arrows, harpoons, everything. They burned him with fire too, but nothing worked. He was immortal— unnatural, inhuman."

“What does this have to do with the witch and her lover?” She grimaces at the impatient tone to her voice. Keyan has sucked her in.

“Hold on, I’m getting there!” He clears his throat, “Well, we’ve already established that the witch’s lover was a bit of a Casanova. But we didn’t mention that he also had a touch of a hero complex. It was killing him to sit by while this creature destroyed village after village. He wanted to go out and fight the monster, believing that he was the only one that could kill it.”

She scoffs, “Men can be so stupid.”

“Yeah. The witch begged him not to seek out the Cold One, but in the dead of night when she was asleep, he crept from their house and towards where the monster kept dominion. The monster appeared to be asleep, but when the man brought a club down over his head, the devil’s eyes opened. He tore the man limb from limb.”

“How did the witch take it?” Rey asks softly.

“What’s that saying that’s like ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman’? She went ballistic, insane in her need for revenge. The man was her family, you know. The only person she ever loved. She spent many days and nights figuring out what the Cold One really was. It’s said that only when she began to use Dark Magick did she discover the devil’s true nature.”

“Dark Magick?”

Keyan nods. “According to this myth, Magick depends on the balance of life and death. Spells that intervene with that delicate balance are Dark Magick. When she used these Darke spells, she didn’t just find out what the Cold One was. She found out how to kill him— with a stake wreathed in some flower lethal to their kind.

But she didn’t believe that she or anyone in the village had the strength to do what had to be done. After all, she and the Quileutes were only human. So, she created a monster of her own. Calling on the power of the moon— something Darke, since Magick practitioners are only supposed to call on the power of the sun— against his will, she infected the most powerful warrior in the village with the ability to turn into a wolf the size of a horse.”

The bubble created by Keyan’s story pops with Rey’s barking laugh. “A werewolf, Keyan? Seriously?”

His serious expression breaks. “Shh, you’re ruining the vibe.”

She forces the smirk away. “Sorry, please do continue.”

He winks at her, “The Wolf was created for one purpose: to destroy the Cold One. His bite was fatal to the Cold One and anyone like him. Most of the time, the Wolf looked human, but under the light of the full moon, he became a vicious animal bound by bloodlust. The witch sicced him on the monster and the Wolf tore him to shreds _right here on this very beach._ ”

Keyan finishes, a smug look on his face.

She raises her eyebrows, “That’s it?”

He splutters, “What do you mean that’s it? I just told you a riveting local legend!”

Rey doesn’t say anything and Keyan sighs, removing the blanket and using it to wipe sweat from his forehead. “Nothing pleases you, does it, Arizona?”

She smiles. “It was a good try.” 

Keyan rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. Admit you liked it at least a little bit.”

She crosses her arms. “Fine. I liked it _a little bit._ ” She frowns. "Wait, how do you know so much about that stuff?"

A faint blush appears on Keyan's cheeks. "Uh, well. I may be sort of a local history buff myself."

"Oh my _god_ ," Rey gasps, choking on air. "You're such a _loser_."

He punches her arm, but there's no heat behind it. "Hey! It's interesting! Jess thinks it's super cool." He looks like he wants to keep on defending himself, but moving so quickly has made him dizzy.

As he slumps back against the trunk, she looks at him and thinks of Jess' wounded face after he'd snapped at her. "Ohhhh."

"What?"

"Nothing," she says, but she can't stop her smile. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes how good of a couple Jess and Keyan would make. "Are you gonna ask her out?"

The blush spreads to his ears. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Alright, play dumb." Words press on her tongue, like they have to be said or she'll explode. Something heavy sits in her gut, making her voice dark and foreboding. "But if you really like her, you should ask her out now. The future's uncertain. Something bad could happen soon and you could lose your chance."

"Jesus, Arizona," Keyan says, glancing at her sharply in spite of the blush now creeping up to his hairline. "Not much of an optimist are you?"

She snaps out of it. "Sorry, I—" Their eyes meet and her tone softens at the insecurity and fear she sees in his irises. "I'm right though. Ask her out today."

He coughs into his fist, bending forward. It's too loud, too theatrical to be natural.

"Keyan."

He sighs, straightening. "I'll ask her out. When the time is right."

"Keyan—"

"When the time is _right_ , Rey. I've known Jess my whole life and you've known her barely a month. I appreciate your support, but let me do this myself."

She cocks at eyebrow at the return of snappy Keyan and raises her hands in surrender. For a moment, the two of them exist in a tense, but not uncomfortable silence.

A loose thread occurs to her. "Keyan?"

“Hmm?”

“What happened to the witch and the Wolf?”

“It’s believed that she died from the grief of losing her soulmate. Her creation outlived her, but no one knows for sure what happened to the Wolf. He disappeared after he killed the Cold One.”

“And what _was_ the Cold One?”

He takes off his jacket, the fever overheating him again. “No one really knows that either. Some people think he was—”

A voice calls her name.

She grins, standing and spinning around to see Poe. At his side is a brunette woman with grey-blue eyes and a thick mane of curly hair hanging down to the small of her back. Both her hands are wrapped around one of his. “Poe!”

Poe tugs them forward by their joined hands. “Rey, this is my girlfriend, Zorii.”

“Nice to meet you, Rey.” Zorii’s voice is gentle and her small smile is sweet. Rey knows immediately that these two are a good fit, Zorii the soothing balm to Poe’s rough charm. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Thank you for helping in the shop.”

Rey waves her off. “Don’t thank me, I’m glad to help. I love cars. And it’s to work off the cost of parts for my truck, so.”

Poe narrows his eyes as he notices Rey’s not alone. “Keyan Farlander?”

The boy in question comes to stand next to Rey, his gait unsteady. “Poe, hey.”

“Haven’t seen you since you and your little friends got drunk and broke into my shop last year.”

Rey gapes at him and the blonde has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Still sorry about that.” He breaks down into another coughing fit.

Poe’s demeanor changes. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Fever,” Rey answers before Keyan can. “Jess, Kaydel, and I are here for a beach day and he insisted on coming, even though he’s sick.”

Zorii furrows her delicate brow and drops Poe’s hand, extending a slight palm towards Keyan’s forehead. “May I?”

He nods.

She presses her flesh to his skin for barely more than a second before pulling away, flashing Poe an alarmed look.

“How long have you had a fever?” Poe probes. 

“I don’t know, on and off again for a week? But it wasn’t this bad until now.”

“What do you see?”

Confusion mars his skinny features. “What do I _see_?”

“Is your vision different?” Zorii is calmer than Poe, intending to pacify where her boyfriend sought to stress.

“Um,” Keyan scratches the back of his head. “It’s a little…fuzzy.”

“Out of focus fuzzy?” Zorii prompts.

“Actually, no. More like… so in focus it’s almost blurry. Like every color’s really…bright.”

Something passes between Poe and Zorii. 

“C’mon, we’ll take you home.” Poe reaches for Keyan.

“Oh, no. I’m good.” He jabs his hands in his pockets. “I feel fine.”

Rey’s exasperated. “You’re clearly not fine, Keyan. Go with them.” She nods towards where Jess and Kaydel lounge in the near distance. “We’ll be okay. You won’t miss anything important.”

“You sure?” He looks stressed, like he doesn’t want to leave, but now he doesn’t have another choice. She’s pretty sure he’s about to pass out, his skin a pale green when mere moments ago it had been a bright red.

“Positive,” she nudges him towards the couple. “Go home and get better.”

He tugs his jacket back on, wrapping the blanket over it. “You’ll tell Kay and Jess where I went?”

“Yes. Go home.”

“Can you tell Kay I’ll wash her blanket and give it back to her when I’m better?”

“No problem.”

A toothy grin splits Keyan’s face in half as a bead of sweat drips off his chin. “Thanks, Rey. You’re the best.”

Poe wraps an arm around the boy’s bony shoulders. “Our car’s this way.”

The three of them start to head off when another familiar voice calls her name. This time, she doesn’t smile.

“Rey!”

On the opposite end of the lot, four of the Organas emerge from a flashy red convertible Rey's pretty sure is the newest Corvette. Like always, they look like they’ve been pulled straight from the pages of Vogue. Not like always, they appear caught off guard, halting in their tracks once they see who Rey’s with, like a bunch of expertly crafted marionettes with cut strings.

And next to her, Poe and Zorii freeze as well.

Armitage moves first, stomping towards them, but Finnigan’s arm shoots out and blocks his path. A little bit of a scuffle ensues, followed by a nonverbal argument that results in Armitage, Gwendolyn, and Rosemary traipsing to the beach. Only once his adopted siblings have set foot on the sand does Finnigan approach their group. He stops before entering their space, giving them a wide berth.

“Poe.” Finnigan inclines his head in the man's direction. “Zorii.”

Rey shares a confused look with Keyan.

“What are you doing here, Organa?” She has never heard such contempt drip from Poe’s voice.

“We came to enjoy the beach,” Finnigan replies mildly. “I’m sorry, I was under the impression that this was a public area in which everyone is allowed.”

Poe scoffs and makes a weird noise in the back of his throat, like he’s gathering a glob of saliva to spit at Finnigan, but Zorii prevents it by placing a firm hand on his bicep. “We’ll meet you in the car.” She gives Poe a warning look and steers Keyan away.

“Bye, Rey.” He raises a hand in farewell. “See you on Monday.”

“Bye.” She turns her attention back to Finnigan and Poe, glancing between the men, trying to figure out why Poe’s drawn himself up to his full height, why Finnigan’s holding himself as still as Benjamin does. “Do you guys know each other?”

They answer at the same time, too quick. “No.”

She squints suspiciously, “What’s going on?”

Finnigan breaks Poe’s gaze, gesturing in the direction of his family. Rey can see them on the beach, a way from where Kaydel and Jess are reclining on their blankets. Rey can’t make out their faces, but they’ve clumped together, dodging glances back at Finnigan, Rosemary doing so more than the others. “Come hang out with us, Rey.”

She doesn’t so much as twitch but Poe’s arm darts out in front of her, obstructing any potential movement. “She’s not going anywhere with you. Or them.”

Finnigan’s mouth twists like he’s biting back what he actually wants to say. “I think Rey can make her own decisions.”

“She doesn’t _want_ to go with you.”

“Rey,” Finnigan pins her with a look and she notices his black eyes are no longer black. Like Benjamin’s, they’re now a warm amber. _That can’t be right. Both their eyes were definitely black a couple weeks ago._ “Do you want to come with us?”

“Did you and Benjamin get contacts?” She blurts out, not hearing his question.

Finnigan’s neutral expression flickers. “Excuse me?”

“Just— your eyes were pitch black and now they’re gold. And I swear the same thing happened with Benjamin.”

She doesn’t realize she’s taken a step toward Finnigan until Poe grabs her shoulders and pulls her back. 

Finnigan’s amber eyes flash. “No, we did not get contacts. Our eyes have always been this color.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but Poe whispers in her ear, “Drop it, Rey.”

She snaps her mouth shut, obeying Poe for a reason she can’t discern. 

“I’ll ask again. Do you want to come with us?” He speaks to Rey, but makes eye contact with Poe.

Before she has a chance to respond, Poe mutters, “Remember what I said when you asked about Han Solo?”

“What the _hell_ did you say about Han Solo?” Finnigan’s tone could still be interpreted as polite; Rey intuitively knows he never raises his voice, but there’s a hard edge to it now, hard like steel.

Poe ignores the other man and turns her to face him, his eyes boring into hers. “Yeah,” she says slowly. “I remember.”

“Trust me.” His fingers dig into her skin and the sensation skirts the edge of pain. “Rey, please.”

He’s desperate and she feels bad for having this fascination with the Organas. “Okay.”

“Poe!” Zorii shouts from the end of the lot, the passenger door open, her knee braced on the seat and her hands planted on the hood of their car, a dingy white Volkswagen. “Leave it!” Her soft voice is razor-sharp and it reaches Poe instantly.

His fingers go limp, sliding from her shoulders. He backs off, glowering at Finnigan and pointing at Rey. “If any of you so much as _touch_ her…”

“We know the rules.” A side of Finnigan’s mouth quirks up. He nods towards where Keyan’s collapsed in their backseat. “Do you?”

“Poe! Now!”

He bristles, but steps away, giving Rey one last pleading look as he heads to his car. Finnigan watches the vehicle until it pulls out of the lot, he and Poe not breaking eye contact until the car has disappeared from sight.

“What was that about?” Rey demands, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Nothing.” Finnigan smiles easily now, his normal warmth flooding back.

Annoyance blooms in the pit of her stomach. “Are you kidding? You two looked like you were about to tear each other apart.”

“Rey, I swear it was nothing. Come hang out with us?”

“I am so _sick_ of people lying to me,” Rey mutters, kicking a stone with the tip of her boot.

Finnigan repeats his question, disregarding her comment. 

“No,” she fixes him with an iron gaze, “not until you tell me the truth about everything.”

“Everything?”

“Your family. You and Rosemary trying to be all buddy-buddy with me. What just happened with Poe.” She exhales forcefully, “Benjamin.”

“There’s no truth to tell. We’re open books.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” The wind picks up then, blowing her hair into a tempest. Irritably, she pulls the strands from her face so she can see him. “What’s going on?”

Finnigan looks back at her, unfalteringly steady.

“Jesus,” she faces away from him sharply, toward the water. “Maybe Keyan was right. You are a cult.”

He laughs softly, “Maybe.” 

His shoes don’t even crunch the sandy gravel when he moves. Her only indication that he’s now beside her is the proximity of his words. “Come with us. We want to spend time with you.”

Her fists clench. “Why me?”

“You’re special.”

That’s the last thing she expected to hear. “What?” She snaps. “Fuck off.”

“No. You _are_ special, Rey. More than you could possibly know.”

She huffs bitterly, the strong exhalation ghosting in the autumnal air. “Your brother doesn’t seem to think so.”

Finnigan glances down with a heavy sigh. “Ben is…difficult. He doesn’t always mean what he says. He’ll try to push you away because it's all he knows.”

“What are you saying?”

“It’s important that you don’t let him.” Finnigan seems ancient all of a sudden, nonexistent lines developing on his handsome face. “Whatever you do, you _cannot_ let him push you away.”

“Why?” Her words aren’t whispered, but there’s a hushed air about them like she unconsciously knows that what Finnigan is about to say is for her ears only.

“Because,” A gull squawks overhead as Finnigan surveys the water sadly, his somber eyes roaming over the figures of his family in the distance. “Because I think you might be the only one that can save him.”

She blinks. “ _Save_ him? From who?”

He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to. She knows. The answer hangs between them, unspoken, but no less potent.

_Himself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to the websites of the nations mentioned. Please take a second to read:
> 
> [Quileute Tribe](https://quileutenation.org/)
> 
> [Makah Tribe](https://makah.com/makah-tribal-info/)
> 
> [Hoh Tribe](http://hohtribe-nsn.org/)
> 
> If you live in the United States you can text your zip code or your city, state to this number **(907) 312-5085** to discover which Native land corresponds to the region you're living on. If you don't live in the United States you can use the website: [native-land.ca](https://native-land.ca/)
> 
> [Keep up with my update schedule](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/updates).
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	8. More Irritations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8!

“I have to get back to my friends.” She sounds flat and dull, even to her own ears.

“Wait, Rey. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything—”

She leaves Finnigan, heading to Jess and Kaydel as fast as she could without sprinting. Thank God she doesn’t have to walk by the other Organas.

She can feel their stares on her back as she lays her blanket next to the cheerleaders, Finnigan’s regretful eyes burning a hole in her skin. She plops down, crossing her legs and burying her head in her hands. A cigarette would be fucking fantastic right about now. Or a joint. Or a beer. _Something._

“Where’s Keyan?”

Raising her head, she looks over at the two girls. They’re lying on their blankets, eyes closed like it’s ninety degrees and they’re in bikinis, rather than fifty degrees and jeans.

She can’t make fun of them, not when she’s relieved they didn’t see what happened in the parking lot. Not when they’re blissfully unaware of the Organas down the beach.

Jess cracks an eye open and repeats her question.

“He went home. He started to feel worse,” she says, digging her fingers in the wet sand. 

Jess raises herself on her elbows, brow creasing. “What? How did he get home?” Her anger with Keyan seems to have dissipated.

Rey tries to appear nonchalant, an impressive feat when she’s as unsettled as the waves. “Uh, Poe dropped by and offered to give him a ride.”

Now Kaydel sits up too. “Poe Dameron? The hot guy who owns the auto shop?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would he do that?” Her eyes widen. “Oh my god, are you _friends_ with Poe Dameron?”

“Sort of? I started helping out at his garage like two weeks ago.” She doesn’t mention that she’s working to pay off a debt.

Kaydel squeals and Jess rolls her eyes, but she looks just as excited. The blonde claps, “Oh my god! Oh my god! Tell us everything! Poe Dameron is, like, the absolute hottest.”

“He has a girlfriend,” she reminds Kaydel. 

“And he’s twenty-five,” Jess adds, though her tone is more teasing than reprimanding. 

Kaydel waves them both off and scoots forward, looking at Rey expectantly. 

She sighs, but acquiesces, grateful to have a distraction from the storm of her thoughts and the stares of the Organas.

☾

It’s not until she’s in bed, Bebe curled in the crook of her knee, does she let herself think about what Finnigan said.

Special...Rey has never been special a day in her life. 

And Finnigan has no proof to suggest anyone thinks otherwise. Much less Benjamin who doesn’t hate her but doesn’t want anything to do with her.

She thinks about talking to Poe when she goes to the garage on Monday, but his behavior around the Organas makes her suspicious. Despite what they said, Finnigan and Poe know each other. Well. Though Poe has been kind and welcoming toward Rey, the parking lot altercation reminded her that she doesn’t know anything about him. Or his employees.

Plus, he would be angry to learn that she has no intention of staying away from Benjamin. 

God, what is with her? Why is she so hopelessly fascinated with him?

Is this some sort of hero worship? He did save her life. Yes, that must be it. She’s so thankful to him for saving her life that now Benjamin Solo has become the most interesting person she’s ever met. In gratitude, her brain is hyper focusing on him.

 _Don’t be stupid,_ the snide voice of reason whispers in the back of her mind. _You wanted to die. How could you be thankful for this sorry excuse of a life?_

With a loud groan, Rey turns over on her stomach, smushing her face into her pillow. Bebe meows in irritation as he’s dislodged from his spot, but he recovers and scoots up to lie at her side.

Plutt taught her a long time ago that any amount of affection is a weakness. Later, Sienna taught her that lesson again.

Why here, why now, mere months away from the freedom of adulthood, has the ice around her heart begun to thaw? Why has she suddenly started to care? Not just about Benjamin, but about Keyan. About Jess and Kaydel. Poe. Maz. Jannah, Jacen, and Jai. She’d only met Zorii today, and had yet to meet Jyn and Cassian, but if they’re anything like the others, she’ll like them. 

Her list of people she would care if they lived or died had always been at a resounding zero. How has it become this long? How has she let so many people occupy space in her life? Hell, there’s even room for Marina.

She doesn’t know how to do this. She doesn’t know how to care about people.

There’s a part of her, a very small part, that wishes Plutt hadn’t died. That she could have stayed in Phoenix until she turned eighteen and then disappeared, remaining cold and unfeeling until the end of time.

She remembers Sienna’s joke that Rey looks like a starving wolf. Perhaps she hadn’t been joking. Maybe, all along, she’d been trying to tell Rey something about herself. Trying to open Rey’s eyes to the way she was.

Of course, thinking of wolves reminds her of Keyan’s story. It’s nothing more than a local legend, but still, she’s intrigued by the tale of the Cold One and his demise. She can’t help but feel like there’s more to it. Like something’s missing.

Which brings her right back to Finnigan and his confusing claims.

Why on earth does Finnigan think _she_ can help his brother? The Organas don’t know the first thing about her. She’s only spoken to Finnigan and Rosemary, briefly, and Benjamin has been nothing but an asshole toward her. He’d made his opinion very clear.

_You’re insignificant._

☾

On Monday, Rey and Kaydel arrive early to English.

She trails into the classroom behind the blonde, listening to Kaydel babble about the homecoming dance. The date and theme had been announced over the intercom that morning and it had taken up most of Jess and Kaydel’s lunchtime chatter. 

Keyan had been uncharacteristically silent. He still looked a little sick, his skin pale and damp, trembling from the occasional shiver. Rey’d asked after Poe and Zorii, but he’d answered in short, clipped sentences so she’d backed off, sensing he wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

“Ugh, Seff Hellin is a total idiot, but I heard from Amara Hane who heard from Jane Hara whose best friend slept with him last year, that his dick is, like, ten inches.” 

Kaydel captures Rey’s attention and she leans her hip against the edge of the table as the cheerleader sits at her desk. “So, I figured why not let him take me to homecoming? If only to see if the rumors are true,” Kaydel says, waggling her eyebrows at Rey suggestively.

“Wow.” Rey lets out a disbelieving whistle. “Ten inches.”

“I know right. Pray for me if it’s true. What about you, anyone catch your eye?”

She refuses to allow a certain face to pop up in her mind. “Uh, no. I’m not gonna go. Dancing isn’t really my thing.”

Kaydel pulls out her lip-gloss, reapplying it with the level of care reserved for soldiers dismantling bombs. “Oh, come on, you’re going. There’s gotta be someone that will want to take you, if that's what you're worried about.” 

Rey's about to tell her that she just has no love for dumb high school shit, but Kaydel snaps her compact shut, looking around the classroom as more students file in. She stills, her eyes lighting up as a self-satisfied smile curls her lips, and Rey groans inwardly. That look means trouble. “How about Gil Thorne?”

Rey glances at the boy she nodded at, taking in the arrogant twist to his rough features and the haughty glint in his eyes. She wrinkles her nose in distaste. “I’m good.”

Kaydel waves the football player over anyway. “Gil!” She calls, her light voice going up at least an octave and taking on a silly sing-song quality.

He turns at the mention of his name, smirking as he sees the cheerleader. “Kay-Kay!” With the lumbering grace only a three hundred pound linebacker could possess, he dumps his backpack at his desk as he marches toward them, his rolling shoulders turning his heavy walk into a swagger.

Rey has not even said a word to Gil Thorne and already she would love to sock him in the mouth. She leans down, whispering in Kaydel’s ear that she doesn't want to talk to him, but Kaydel ignores her, swatting at her hands until Rey releases her sleeve.

“Gil,” Kaydel says, her mascaraed eyelashes batting flirtatiously at the football player. “Do you know Rey?”

He flicks his gaze over her from head to toe. Rey feels her hackles rise. “Yeah, everyone knows Rey. You’re from Arizona, right?”

“Yes,” she says through gritted teeth. Kaydel purses her lips with displeasure, shooting her a warning look.

The blonde smooths her face back into the coy expression she adopts when she wants something. “Well, Rey was just talking about how excited she is to be finally going to a homecoming dance—”

“I never said that,” she hisses. 

“—since her last foster parent would never let her.” She tilts her head, pouting. “But she doesn’t have anyone to go with.”

“Is that so?” Gil's line of eyesight is pointed downwards and Rey remembers that she’s wearing a tank top under her open hoodie. She’s not wearing a bra, she doesn’t when she can get away with it— there's not that much up top anyway and bras are uncomfortable. But this is the first time she’s felt weird about the lack of an extra layer. Her skin crawls under Gil Thorne’s predatory stare and she zips up her hoodie the highest it would go. 

He smiles smugly, the tip of his tongue gliding over his teeth. “As it happens, I don’t have anyone to go with either.”

Kaydel gasps, feigning surprise. “You don’t say?” She pretends to think for a moment. “Maybe you guys should go together?”

Rey seriously considers grabbing Kaydel’s braid and ramming her face into the desktop. “No, I don’t think—”

“Sure. I’m down.” Gil Thorne shrugs his heavyset shoulders.

Rey shakes her head, opening her mouth in outrage, barbarous words on the tip of her tongue.

“Oh my god, amazing! Rey would love that! Wouldn’t you, Rey?”

Maybe if she concentrates her mental energy hard enough Kaydel will burst into flames. Sensing her ire, underneath the table, the toe of one of the cheerleader’s white Keds kicks her shin and Rey yelps. Kaydel raises her trimmed brows pointedly and she sighs, giving in. She would only have to spend a couple hours with him for one night, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Fine.”

Something carnivorous gleams in the icy wells of Gil’s eyes. It’s reflected in the expression on Kaydel’s face, a tigress standing victorious over a dead gazelle. “Fabulous! So, we’re thinking that we all could meet at my place—”

She’s interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Holdo. Rey has never been more thankful to see the lady. Throwing a falsely apologetic look at the duo, she slinks to her desk in the back, rubbing at her wounded ankle. Kaydel has some strength when presented with the right incentive. Behind her, she hears the blonde telling Gil that she'll keep him updated about their before and after party plans. 

Out of the corner of her eye she can see that Benjamin’s already in his chair. She refuses to grace him with so much as a brief glance.

She won’t speak to him again. No matter how much she may want to.

Rey tosses her bag on the ground, sinking into her spot, extending her legs under the table and crossing them at the ankles as the rest of the class settles down and Holdo begins the lesson. In her peripheral vision, Benjamin stiffens as if bracing himself for a colossal impact—his standard reaction to her proximity. She fixes her gaze on the blackboard, jaw clenched shut so hard her teeth hurt.

Holdo explains that today they're going to be watching the first three acts of Zeffirelli’s _Romeo and Juliet_. The middle aged woman wheels the TV cart to the front of the classroom and pops the DVD in. The opening music swells as Holdo turns the lights off, the natural grey ambience of the Forks outdoors leaking in from the windows and making the room nearly as dark as nighttime. Yawning, Rey’s eyes begin to close of their own will.

Rey has never slept well, given the environment she’d been raised in. She wakes approximately every three hours, like her body’s afraid of what could happen if she leaves it unattended for too long.

She drifts off, dimly aware this is the first time she’s napped in a public place.

☾

Her cheek is pressed against something that smells of rich leather and masculine spice. 

Breathing deeper, she hums in content, nuzzling closer to the source of that mouthwatering aroma. Her brain is fuzzy, unused to the power of good, genuine rest. 

The world is ripped out from under her, causing her to abruptly straighten her spine just as the classroom lights flash back on. A cacophony of noise erupts around her as the students exit the classroom. She blinks her surroundings into focus just in time to see Kaydel leaving with Gil Thorne, a hand perched on his arm.

“You fell asleep on me.”

Benjamin sounds like he's talking to her from the opposite end of a long tunnel.

“Huh?” She grunts stupidly.

“You fell asleep on my arm.” His dark hair falls in his eyes, obscuring his expression. Not that she would be able to read it anyway.

She crosses her arms, turning her face so he won’t detect her embarrassment. Internally, she berates herself for her weakness. Even in sleep she can’t be free from him. She was supposed to show that she didn’t care about him, but instead, she’s ended up sending the inverse message. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t reply and Rey bends down to grab her stuff, believing the conversation to have ended.

“You’re going to the dance with Gil Thorne.”

She drops her bag back on the floor, its contents spilling. “You heard that?”

He’s facing forward, all she can see is the hard cut of his pale jaw. He answers her question with a question. “Why are you letting him take you?”

“Why do you care?” She snaps.

He pivots his massive torso towards her, one leather-clad elbow resting on the back of his chair and one resting on the table. She can’t breathe, she doesn’t think she’ll ever get over the sheer size of him. She wishes she had been awake so she could remember the feel of him underneath her. “Don’t go out with Gil Thorne.”

It’s the last thing she wants to do, but Benjamin doesn’t have to know that. She mirrors his stance, leering into his personal space, her tone snide. “I thought you didn't care about me. I thought I was insignificant.”

He acts like he hadn’t heard her. “He’s a scumbag, Rey.”

She suppresses the delightful shiver that runs through her when he says her name this close, his voice lowered to a husky growl. Rey juts her chin out at him, “So are you.”

“I’m different. I don’t try to hide it. What’s more, I would never intentionally hurt you.”

The whole conversation is weird, but this throws her off the rails. All of a sudden, she’s painfully aware that it’s just the two of them in the room, Holdo taking a break between classes.

“You have,” she says. “Hurt me.”

Something imperceptible flashes across his face, momentarily disrupting his stoic mask.

And then he does the unthinkable.

Benjamin Solo, dangerous, brooding, scarred Benjamin Solo, who everyone has warned her away from, who has been nothing but a dick to her…apologizes.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” He twitches, like he wants to touch her but can’t, so he lets out a frustrated sigh. “But Gil Thorne will hurt you physically. Don’t go out with him.”

She huffs. “I wasn’t aware that you were the boss of me.” She’s sick of this now, stuffing her belongings back in her bag. “By the way, I can take care of myself, asshole.” She stands, pulling her straps tighter on her shoulders, a primal sense of satisfaction coursing through her as she looms over him for once.

He grinds his teeth together, a vein popping in his forehead. “That’s not what this is about. Rey, listen to me.”

“See here’s the thing, _Benjamin_. I don’t have to listen to you and I can do whatever the hell I want, so fuck off.” She turns her back to him, striding to the door, confident that she’s won this round in whatever game they’re playing.

“Please.”

Benjamin Solo doesn’t seem like the type to say please. What’s more, in that instant, his tone could almost have been mistaken for soft.

She all but runs from him, Finnigan’s words a mantra in her head.

☾

When school lets out, she hurries to the bike rack, desperate to go to Poe’s and lose herself in engines so there could be no space in her head for thoughts of Benjamin. 

She’s excited to see Jannah, Jacen, Zorii, and Jai, and she’s curious to meet Cassian and Jyn. There’s something about the ragtag group of mechanics that makes her feel comfortable, even though Poe had acted strangely at the beach. 

She frowns as she walks, pondering Saturday. Poe’s hiding something, she’s sure of it, the same way she’s certain the Organas are hiding something.

She runs through the events of that day, trying to piece together a possible explanation for why Poe hates them so much. Hate is the only word for what she saw and it was so unlike her perception of Poe that it had taken time to realize it was for what it was: pure, unadulterated hatred akin to the look on Benjamin’s face that first day in English. Poe had nothing on Benjamin, but what could make such a laid back person so full of animosity?

Rey rubs her temples, feeling a migraine coming on. She’s so lost in the hurricane of her thoughts that she doesn’t register the sound of people screaming her name until it’s too late and the silver grille of Keyan’s truck is barreling straight toward her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Keep up with my update schedule](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/updates).
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	9. Everything's a Clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, this baby is really starting to gain some traction!!!! The pressure is on!!!!
> 
> We are meeting Han Solo and Leia Organa in this chapter, my dear readers! Let's talk about a few things before they make an appearance. 
> 
> Like in canon, Ben is Leia and Han's biological son. They had him when they were still human and became vampires when Ben was a baby. That means that the Han and Leia of this world look like Harrison and Carrie in Return of the Jedi! (We'll learn more about everyone's back story in later chapters.)
> 
> This does also mean that Luke (when we meet him) is going to look like Mark did in ROTJ. I'm going to link the specific photos i have in mind while I'm writing if anyone wants to take a look. I know I usually put references in the end notes, but I'm including them in the beginning because I don't want anyone to be confused when reading Rey's initial reactions. Enjoy! xx :)
> 
> [Han Solo](https://i.redd.it/lp7oceqb1t131.jpg)
> 
> [Leia Organa](https://i.imgur.com/xYGuNJ8.jpg)
> 
> [Luke Organa](https://data.whicdn.com/images/218045953/original.jpg)

Time slows to a standstill. 

Rey’s vision narrows to encompass nothing but the three tons of metal hurtling toward her. Her breath catches as she waits, expecting her flight or fight response to kick in.

It doesn’t.

She should be afraid. She should be screaming. She should be scrambling to get out of the way, falling over in her haste and scraping her palms bloody on the rain-slicked concrete.

She feels only peace. A wave of gratitude washes over her and a smile tugs at her lips. _Finally._

She has plenty of time to move out of the truck’s path, but Rey doesn’t so much as twitch. _C’mon_ , she dares Keyan. _Do it_.

A spark of obsidian ignites in her peripheral vision.

Benjamin.

He’s standing across the lot in front of that formidable motorcycle, his helmet clutched in his hands. It takes a moment to process that it’s him because Rey has never seen such strong emotion on his chiseled features before. Benjamin looks _panicked_ , his scar twisting unfamiliarly with the expression.

Rey doesn’t dwell on it for long. She closes her eyes, glad the last thing she saw before oblivion was his face.

Only— like in the meadow— oblivion decides to play coy.

Thrust behind what feels like a large wall, her eyes jump open and her lips part in surprise.

Benjamin’s in front of her, one ginormous arm flung across her midsection, trapping himself between the oncoming vehicle and Rey.

The desire to slap him has never been so strong. What was he thinking, putting himself in danger like this? Now, Keyan’s not only about to kill her, but Benjamin too.

_Wait._

Before she closed her eyes, she’d seen him at least thirty feet away—

Keyan’s truck swerves, tires struggling to find their grip on the pavement. Certain death is definitely upon them now and she shoves with all her strength at Benjamin’s arm, desperate to push him to safety, but he might as well be made of iron because he doesn’t budge, and _god, he’s such an idiot_ —

His other hand shoots out and stops the truck mere centimeters from their bodies, the force putting a substantial dent in the side and propelling the vehicle back fractionally.

Her brain can’t compute the images her optic nerve is sending it.

Rey blinks rapidly, attempting to make what she’d seen fit within the bounds of science, but then Keyan’s tumbling from the truck, skin tinted both red and green like a Christmas tree.

“Rey?” He whimpers, searching for her through the fog of fever, a hand pressed to his abdomen. His flaxen hair is drenched with sweat and the thin strands are plastered to his skull, giving him the appearance of a drowned cat. “Rey?”

She stands on her tiptoes and peers at him as best she can over the mountain of Benjamin’s shoulder. Benjamin’s frozen, an impenetrable force between her and the rest of the world. His gaze is fixed on Keyan, and he doesn’t seem to be planning to move any time soon.

“I’m here.” She calls, deciding it’s safer to remain behind the Great Wall of Benjamin. “I’m okay.”

He sags in relief against his truck as time speeds up again. The faces of students and teachers, sound, color, smell...it all comes rushing back in a whirlwind, overloading her senses. People begin to crowd around Rey and Benjamin. An instant before they converge, he disappears into the swarm of bodies and Mrs. Holdo has taken his place, her Blackberry pressed to her ear.

“She doesn’t seem to be injured.” The teacher waves a hand in Rey’s face, tearing her attention from the spot where Benjamin vanished. “Rey? Rey! Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she says in a daze. “Check on Keyan.”

“Keyan’s going to the hospital.” Mrs. Holdo ends what Rey assumes was a 911 call and sticks her phone in the pocket of her slacks. She grabs Rey’s upper arm. “And so are you.”

Rey digs in her heels as her teacher tries to pull her away from the scene. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“You need to be checked out.”

“No, I don’t. I’m fine. Benjamin saved me.”

Holdo’s sharp features crease as her gaze sweeps over Rey like radar. “I didn’t see Mr. Solo.” Her eyes bore into Rey’s as if that alone could discern injury. “You must’ve hit your head.”

“I didn’t _hit_ anything.” Rey protests hotly, irritation spiking. “I’m fine.”

Over Holdo’s shoulder she can see the slight dent Benjamin’s hands made in the metal. She seems to be the only one aware of it, everyone else lost in fear and confusion, focused on her and Keyan. 

Holdo’s frown deepens as Rey searches in vain for Benjamin in the sea of students and faculty. Her grip on Rey becomes vice like. Ignoring Rey’s objections, she drags her to a cop car.

“You called the police?” Rey rips her arm from the teacher’s hold. “I’m not pressing charges against Keyan.”

“That’s your choice, but that’s not why I called 911. The police station is just down the street, so the sheriff can take you to the hospital. Be glad you don’t need an ambulance. It would take a lot longer to get here. And it would be expensive.”

“I told you, I’m not going to the hospital.” Rey stamps her foot. She’s aware she’s acting like a petulant child, but she’s coming down from a super strong adrenaline rush and it’s making her patience thinner than usual.

“Yes, you are, kid.”

Objectively the most handsome man Rey has ever seen is leaning on the squad car’s roof, giving her an easy smile punctuated by a charming dimple in his left cheek. He’s tall, though not as tall as Benjamin, with tan skin similar in shade to hers, like he too has spent the last seventeen years in the desert. His eyes are a serene amber that pop like wildflowers in the field of his face.

He taps the gold star on his left breast with a calloused finger. “Sheriff Han Solo. Nice to meet you.”

She’s stunned. _This_ is Benjamin’s dad? Sheriff Han Solo doesn’t look anything like a father, his rugged good looks giving her the impression of a male model or a movie star, not someone who’s changed diapers. His face bears not even a hint of a wrinkle and his chestnut hair isn’t flicked with grey. She wonders how young he was when he had Benjamin. When he adopted the others.

He comes around and opens the door for her. Rey sees Keyan slumped in the backseat, a mirror image to how he’d sat in Kaydel’s Jeep two days ago. Unlike on Saturday, the boy is twitching so severely that for a second Rey is worried he might be having a seizure. His teeth are chattering, clacking together in a way that makes her grimace. Sweat pours from his skin in buckets and his eyes flutter beneath half-closed eyelids, rolling nauseatingly around in their sockets. It’s a wonder he even found his way to his car, much less drove it.

If adrenaline wasn't currently scrambling her brain, perhaps she would have realized this was the something bad she'd gotten a hunch about.

Curled up and sick, Keyan looks so small and defenseless. Like a child. She’s thrown back in time to that rainy day fourteen years ago in that church, surrounded by strangers. Crying out for her parents until she’d made herself throw up.

She can’t leave Keyan to go to the hospital alone. 

Rey lets out an annoyed groan at her sudden inability to be self-preserving and slides in next to him. She presses her palm to Keyan’s damp forehead, recoiling in shock when the heat scorches her skin.

“He’s burning up!” She cries as Benjamin’s dad turns the key in the ignition. 

He curses under his breath and pulls erratically fast, but still smoothly, from the lot, those around them clearing a path. 

Rey glances out the rear window to see Holdo talking to Mrs. Daniels. As she’s turning back around, she glimpses the Organas clumped around the red Corvette, as far away from the rest of the student body as possible— Armitage looks surprised, Gwendolyn angry, Finnigan anxious, and, weirdly, Rosemary full of self-satisfaction.

Benjamin isn’t among them.

Rey feels a slight lurch underneath her as the sheriff presses hard on the gas. Through the wire mesh that separates him from her and Keyan, she watches as he reaches for the dashboard and flips a switch. The siren starts to blare, a signal to everyone _to get the fuck out of their way_.

“You aren’t hurt?” He glances at her in the mirror and even though his eyes are the same color as his son’s, what’s behind them is as different as night and day. For the first time, she wonders about Benjamin’s mother.

“I’m completely fine.” Keyan starts to moan and thrash about until she holds him immobile. She forces herself not to meet the sheriff’s gaze again, feigning overwhelming interest in Keyan’s condition. 

The truth spills out of her, “Benjamin was there. He stopped the truck right before it hit me. It was incredible, one second he was across the parking lot and the next he was beside me.”

Han Solo’s easygoing grin doesn’t falter, but neither does it quite reach his eyes. He doesn’t ask how she knows Benjamin is his son and she remembers that he also hadn’t asked who she was. Damn, she forgets how _tiny_ Forks is. 

Rey lets go of Keyan and leans forward, sticking her slim fingers through the holes in the mesh and curling them down. “Did you hear me? Benjamin stopped the truck with his _bare hands_.”

For the briefest of seconds, Han Solo clenches the steering wheel that much tighter. “Rey, you had a traumatic accident. Shock can make us see things that didn’t happen.”

 _It did happen,_ she wants to shout, but Keyan begins to convulse again and he reaches for her.

“Jess—” The word is little more than a puff of air.

“She's not here, but I am. It's Rey,” she says, shifting away from Han Solo and letting the boy wrap his clammy fingers around hers, wincing at the press of his burning flesh. Holding Keyan’s hand feels like hovering her palm an inch above an open flame.

“I’m sorry, Arizona,” he croaks. “I thought I was better…I don’t know what happened. My vision started to blur, I lost control—”

She quiets him as quickly as she can, his frantic mumbling worsening his tremors. “Shh, it’s alright. I’m not hurt. I forgive you.”

He nods weakly, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet lips that are dry and cracked. The pattern of peeling skin reminds Rey of the desert terrain. Funny that even though she’s left Phoenix, the desert has not left her. She guesses she’ll always carry its sizzling sun and sandy earth with her in some way.

"You were right."

She lowers her ear to his mouth. "What did you say?"

"I lost my chance."

"Lost your—" Just as she connects the dots Keyan fades into unconsciousness with a loll of his head. His pulse beats an erratic rhythm beneath her fingers.

“Keyan?” She tries, hoping he’s only dozing off. She drops his hand and shoves at his skinny chest. “Keyan, wake up! You didn't lose your chance, wake up!” Aggressively, Rey shakes his bony shoulders and when he doesn’t respond, she turns back to the sheriff, her voice shrill with urgency. “He fainted!”

Sheriff Solo curses, accelerating even more. “I knew I should have waited for an ambulance. Stubborn kid. Remind me never to let a teenager tell me what to do again.”

Nervous laughter bubbles up. “Okay, I’ll tell Benjamin to take it easy on you.”

Han Solo runs a red light. “You’re friends with Ben?”

“I—” _Why did she say that?_ “Uh, no, no, I’m not. Sorry, it was a joke.” She was going to add that Benjamin had explicitly told her they couldn’t be friends, but she thought her issues with Benjamin would be a weird thing to talk to his father about. Especially now, since everything’s been thrown into flux by the fact that he’d saved her _again_.

“You should be.” The sheriff drives into the hospital lot, pulling right up to the curb, just as the rain transitions from the perpetual drizzle to a light shower. “My son could use a friend like you.”

She starts to respond, but the words _you don’t even know me_ die on her lips as the door is thrown open and Han Solo yanks Keyan's limp form out of the car. He wraps the boy’s twig-like arm around his shoulders, using his own weight to prop up Keyan as he strides to the emergency entrance. He tosses a “come on, kid” to her and Rey hastily follows.

Keyan’s whisked away by a team of nurses the second they step foot in Fork Hospital’s ER. One of them gives Rey a once over and orders her to pick a bed and wait for someone to come examine her.

She nods and heads to the bed farthest from the door, Benjamin’s father behind her. He sits on the chair next to the lumpy bed, his posture a more relaxed version of his son’s. She takes off her backpack, jumping up on the bed.

Rey finds this whole thing incredibly inconvenient. She’s fine. She doesn’t need a checkup. From the lack of other patients in the ER, she makes an educated guess that Forks Hospital doesn’t see a lot of action and so its residents have become overly cautious.

She can’t complain too much— it was her choice to come. _A stupid, sentimental choice._

“You wanna press charges against the kid?” Han Solo jabs his thumb in the direction they took Keyan.

“No. It wasn’t his fault.” Worrying her lip between her teeth, she thinks of the strange feel of Keyan’s skin. 

The fever had made his flesh simultaneously hot and cold. It had colored his cheeks pale while red, had clouded his vision. _Where the hell did these symptoms come from?_ It hadn’t been this bad on Saturday and he’d seemed better at lunch. 

“What could cause something like this?”

Han Solo folds his hands on his stomach. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Do you think he’ll die?” The words are flat, any emotion suppressed. 

He smiles in a way that’s meant to be reassuring. “I don’t know, kid. I hope not. I’m sure the doctors will do everything they can.” The sheriff stands and Rey gets the feeling she’s made him uncomfortable. _Looks like comforting isn’t one of Han Solo’s strong suits._ “Holler if you need anything, I’ll just be around the corner. Gotta give the parents a call.”

He ambles off, wet boots squeaking and tracking sludge across the linoleum. No sooner has he disappeared than the automatic doors are sliding open and Jess and Kaydel are running toward her with outstretched arms. She has a scant moment to brace herself before they’ve wrapped her in a bone-shattering embrace.

“Oh Rey, we were so worried!” Jess breathes, the exhalation stirring the baby hairs on Rey’s temple and making her squirm in discomfort.

Two pairs of arms retract. “Sorry,” Kaydel looks ashamed. “We forgot you don’t like to be touched.”

To Rey’s knowledge, she’s never told them that. _Huh._ Turns out Jess and Kaydel are more observant than she’d thought.

She tries to avoid looking directly at Jess. At the beach she'd thought Keyan's feelings were nothing more than a crush. But he'd called for her in the throes of fever. It feels too intimate to look at Jess knowing the strength of Keyan's devotion. 

“You’re okay, right?” Kaydel demands. “When we saw Keyan’s truck coming toward you…” She shudders. “We were so sure you were going to die.”

Jess nods in animated agreement. “How are you okay?”

“Benjamin saved me,” Rey says simply. 

She could divulge the details of _how_ exactly Benjamin had saved her, but the two cheerleaders love to gossip. If she told them that she’d seen Benjamin perform a superhuman feat, it would be the talk of the town in a matter of hours. She would be labeled insane. Human beings cannot move at the speed of light. Human beings cannot stop an oncoming vehicle with their bare hands. There’s even a risk, if the rumors got out of hand, that she could be sent to a hospital. If she was adamant enough about what she saw. 

If this fiasco had happened in Phoenix, she would have told everyone she knew. She would have screamed her head off about Benjamin and his abilities. She would have embellished. Said she saw him fly or shoot lasers with his eyes. She wouldn’t have rested until she had been admitted and then she would have relished having a clean bed and plenty of food to eat. She would have played it up for a couple of months until she’d grown bored and then she would have escaped. Continued life as a runway.

But now she has a clean bed and plenty of food to eat. Why would she give that up?

Anyway, it’s nobody’s business but hers and Benjamin’s. And Han Solo. He knows what his son has done. In the squad car, she’d seen it in his eyes. 

“Benjamin Solo?” They say in tandem, incredulous.

“What about my son?”

A petite woman in a pristine white lab coat enters from the hallway, a clipboard in hand. Jess and Kaydel separate, one on either side of Rey.

“Nothing, Dr. Organa.” Jess’ response is too hasty to not arouse suspicion.

“Hmmm.” The woman’s sharp amber eyes flick between them and the truth of Benjamin’s parentage slaps Rey in the face, as, once again, reality is nothing like she’d imagined.

Like his father, Benjamin’s mother doesn’t seem like a parent. She’s too young to have almost adult children, too...cool.

She’s strikingly beautiful, her regal features carved from the same porcelain that Benjamin’s are. Her dark brown hair is slicked back in a bun at the nape of her graceful neck, her lips painted the color of cherries. Kaydel had said Benjamin’s mother is old money and she looks it. There’s something about her that just screams wealth and power.

Rey doesn’t realize the woman has taken her breath away until she’s close enough to read her name tag— _Leia Organa, M.D._

She reminds herself to breathe.

“I would appreciate it if you girls took a seat in the waiting area while I checked Miss Johnson.” Dr. Organa’s voice, despite its melodious airy quality, is crisp and businesslike. Jess and Kaydel give her a tiny wave and leave, Benjamin’s mother pulling the curtain closed after them.

Rey bites her lip as anxiety runs its chilly fingers down her back. “I didn’t know it was going to be such an in-depth examination.” 

“Oh, it’s not,” Dr. Organa reassures her. “I thought you wanted some privacy. You seem like a girl who hates the spotlight.”

“Oh, um, yeah. Thanks.”

Dr. Organa presses her stethoscope to Rey’s heart. When the woman leans into her personal space, Rey catches a whiff of a scent that has the same underlying note as Benjamin’s— except where his is dark and spicy, this one reminds Rey of the meadow she’d fallen into. 

It could only be coming from Benjamin’s mother.

Rey discovers it to be comforting and she’s glad the deep breathing the test requires enables her to inhale the natural perfume as much as she wants. Where Benjamin’s smell makes her dizzy, his mother’s reminds her of a distant memory, one so faint Rey half-thinks she dreamed it. One where she was loved and treasured, the hands of her own mother smoothing over the soft skin of her two-year old face, humming a lullaby. 

Her throat closes and she pushes the fragment of memory deep down where it couldn't hurt her anymore.

Dr. Organa steps away and returns the instrument to its place around her neck. “What a scary thing. Your friend, losing control of the car. You must have been terrified.”

 _No._ “Yes.”

“It’s a good thing your reflexes are so quick. Most people would have frozen up.” Something about the careful positioning of her features, so similar to the guarded aloofness of Benjamin’s face, makes her pry like she had with Han Solo.

“I didn’t move out of the way in time. Your son saved me.”

“Which one?” Dr. Organa writes something on her clipboard, the movement of her right hand as fluid and majestic as an eagle in flight. Her voice is bored, like she’s entertaining Rey’s fancy out of politeness, not caring enough to listen.

She clears her throat. “Benjamin.”

“Oh.”

Rey waits for her to say more, but when the doctor doesn’t, she carries on. “Keyan did lose control of his truck. It would have crushed me if Benjamin hadn’t stopped it. It was the strangest thing, I could have sworn that one moment I was looking at him across the parking lot and the next he was right in front of me, stopping that huge truck with his bare hands.”

Benjamin’s mother clicks her pen and a tiny light beams out the top of it. She shines it in Rey’s eyes. “You know, when we experience a traumatic event or we come close to death, our mind plays tricks on us.” 

“Your husband said the same thing,” Rey mutters.

“Well,” Benjamin’s mother straightens and flashes a smile, tucking the pen into her breast pocket. “Once in a blue moon, my husband is right.”

“I know what I saw.”

Dr. Organa checks her pager as she pulls the curtain open, her tone breezy. “I’m afraid what you’re describing is impossible, Miss Johnson. You don’t have a concussion, you’re perfectly fine, so I wouldn’t worry about this delusion. The lies our brains tell us can be very convincing.”

“My brain isn’t lying to me, _I know what I saw_.”

The second Rey’s exposed, Jess and Kaydel are back, their hands little birds flitting from branch to branch on the tree of Rey’s body, searching for a place to land that she would be okay with. Finding none, they nest on the scratchy sheet.

“Is she alright, Dr. Organa?” It’s ironic that Kaydel’s so worried when only a couple hours ago the cheerleader didn’t have any care for Rey, saddling her with Gil Thorne and the homecoming dance.

“All clear.” Ben’s mother pats her clipboard. “I’ll get the paperwork ready for you to be released.” She gifts Rey with a movie star smile as she struts away, her walk more lioness than woman.

Kaydel sighs in jealous admiration. “She is so hot.”

“How old is she?” Rey asks, hopping down from the bed.

“I don’t actually know. Young.”

“Shit, I didn’t get a chance to ask her about Keyan. Is he okay?” Jess’ fingers twist themselves into a pretzel.

A rush of guilt consumes her. She’d forgotten to ask about Keyan, preoccupied by thoughts of Dr. Organa and Benjamin.“They took him back a little while ago. He fainted during the car ride here.”

The redhead gasps, “He did? What’s wrong with him?”

Rey pauses, feeling helpless. “I don’t know.”

Jess’ heavily lined eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, sweetie.” Kaydel envelops her friend in a hug. 

Unsure what to do, Rey pats the girl’s head awkwardly. “He’ll be okay, Jess. It’s probably just the flu.”

She raises her head from Kaydel’s shoulder. “You can faint from the flu?”

“If it’s bad enough.”

At the word “bad,” the tears spill over and roll down Jess’ cheek. Kaydel mouths, “Why would you say that?” and Rey flails, searching to no avail for the right thing to say. She prays to a god she doesn't believe in that Keyan will get better soon and ask Jess out. His feelings are clearly returned; the girl is sick with worry. She hesitates— Does she tell Jess? Will it make her feel better?

Probably not. If anything it will only make her more sad. And Keyan had been very adamant about wanting to confess his feelings _himself—_ which is most likely why Kaydel is being kept out of the loop. Jess and her are conjoined twins— what one knows, they both know.

“Rey Johnson!”

Maz is marching toward her, incredibly fast for someone her age. “Maz? What are you doing here?”

The old woman slaps her upside the head.

“Ow!” Rey shouts, rubbing the spot even though it didn’t really hurt. “What was that for?”

Maz waggles a crooked finger in her face. “ _That_ was for being an idiot. ‘What am I doing here?’ You,” she pokes the same finger into Rey’s chest with no amount of tenderness, “almost got yourself killed.”

Something clicks. Sheriff Solo said he had to call the parents. She’d assumed that he’d meant Keyan’s parents. She’d forgotten that, legally, Maz is her parent.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

Maz notices Jess quietly crying in Kaydel’s arms. “What’s wrong, child?”

Jess steps out of Kaydel’s embrace, the blonde keeping a supportive arm around her waist. “Nothing. I’m just,” she sniffles, “worried about Keyan.”

Understanding flickers in Maz’s eyes. She looks at Rey, crossing her arms. “What happened?”

“Why did you automatically assume it was my fault?”

Maz raises her eyebrows and Kaydel snorts. Even Jess lets out a wet laugh. Rey glares at the both of them, effectively shutting them up. 

She relays the events of the past couple days to her foster mother in concise sentences, omitting the weird almost-fight between Poe and Finn, the dance, and Benjamin saving her. At the mention of Keyan’s mysterious illness, a crease appears on Maz’s forehead.

When she’s finished, the gentle amused look on Maz’s face is gone, her expression troubled. “Sheriff Solo didn’t tell me any of this,” she says to herself. Maz mutters something else under her breath, but Rey can’t make it out. She shakes her head, her lips pursed. “Come along, Rey. Let’s go home.”

She would wait until Keyan’s release, but her bones have turned to lead and she wants nothing more than a hot shower and the now familiar weight of Bebe on her chest, lulling her to sleep. “Okay.” 

Maz floats a hand at her back as she bends down to pick up her backpack. “I hope Keyan will recover, Jessika.”

The girl draws in a shaky breath. “I hope so too, Ms. Kanata.”

The side of Maz’s mouth twitches in sympathy. “Well, I believe I have to sign Rey’s discharge papers. See you later, girls. Tell your parents I said hello. Rey, I’ll meet you outside.” The old woman heads to the front desk, her tread more hurried than it had been when she’d arrived.

Rey scratches the back of her neck. “Uh, let me know when Keyan gets out?”

The cheerleaders nod, Jess still sniffing.

“Go get some rest, Rey.” Kaydel lifts a hand to touch her shoulder but jerks back at the moment before contact.

Rey’s heart twinges. Jess and Kaydel have noticed that she doesn’t like to be touched and they were trying to accommodate her. Before she could think better of it, Rey darts forward and pulls them both into a hug. She doesn’t give them the chance to return the gesture, retreating as fast as she’d advanced.

Feeling uncomfortable with the display of affection, Rey pivots on her heel, jogging to the front desk where Maz is signing her release form. Behind her, Jess and Kaydel’s mouths fall open.

As she follows her foster mother outside, she happens to glance down the hallway.

In front of a closed door are Benjamin’s parents engaged in a soundless conversation. From their body language, it seems to be a heated argument. 

When Rey catches sight of them, they freeze, their heads snapping to face her. Dr. Organa’s expression turns to stone, but Han Solo offers her that charismatic smile and raises the hand on which his silver wedding ring shines. She copies his farewell and forces her feet to carry her body into the parking lot before curiosity got the better of her. 

She exits the hospital a step or two behind Maz. Thankfully, the rain has slowed. The cool drops mist on her brow, the soft hair that frames her face starting to curl as the moisture causes the wisps to frizz.

In an echo of earlier, black flashes in her peripheral vision.

Benjamin’s around the corner of the building, straddling his bike with his helmet on, obscured from Maz’s view.

“Maz? Start the car, I’ll be right there. I forgot something.” She calls, creeping backward in his direction.

Maz doesn’t glance behind her, waving a hand as if to say, “no problem.” Rey waits until she’s sure Maz won’t look back before she goes around the wall and comes face to face with the shiny visor of Benjamin’s helmet. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His words are almost unintelligible, muffled by the helmet. He doesn’t make a move to remove it and she suddenly knows that he’s hiding.

“You know I’m okay. You were there. You saved me.”

“I did.”

“Care to tell me how?”

“Why didn’t you move out of the way?”

Rey clenches her jaw, refusing to change the topic. “How were you thirty feet away from me one moment and right in front of me less than a second later? How did you stop that truck with just your hand?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She kicks his front tire. “Yeah, you fucking do.”

“I—”

“Take that stupid helmet off, asshole.”

Tense silence.

Then, his gloved hands are reaching up and lifting it off, revealing his sculpted face. He places the heavy article in his lap, crossing his arms at the elbow as he leans on it. Apparently, Benjamin Solo is the only person alive immune to helmet hair. He gets more attractive every time she looks at him and she’s never hated anyone more.

“I’m not lying,” his deep voice is slow and serious. “I was right next to you the whole time. And I didn’t _stop_ the truck. I pulled you out of the way.”

She shakes her adamantly. “That’s not true. You magically appeared in front of me when you were across the parking lot. You stopped a three thousand pound truck with nothing but the force of your hand.”

He breaks their gaze, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Sometimes when people go through a traumatic event—”

She’s going to rip her hair out. “—their mind plays tricks on them. Yeah, your parents said the same thing.”

His nostrils flare. “Maybe they’re right.”

“Or _maybe_ ,” she sneers at him. “You and your family are hiding something.”

He sneers right back at her. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I bet it’s drugs. I bet Keyan was right and you guys are a cult, a cult of _drug dealers_. What is it you all are taking, hmm? Crystal _m_ _eth_?”

Any sense of triumph Rey feels dissipates when Benjamin tosses back his dark head and roars with laughter. Her breath is stolen from her lungs by the long line of his ivory throat. She stares in wonderment at the clean, strong column.

He quiets, shaking with the remainders of mirth and she beats herself up for focusing more on his neck than the unique song of his laughter. She promises herself that she’ll make him laugh again.

“I’m not on meth, sweetheart. But I’m flattered you think so.” He flashes Rey a cocky grin, so like his father’s that momentarily a teenaged Han Solo sits aside the giant motorbike.

She tries not to blush. “Okay, so not meth. But I know there’s something you’re not telling me and I’m going to figure it out.” 

“Okay, baby. You do that.” Benjamin’s tone is mocking, but there’s a humorous glint to his amber eyes that makes her want to giggle rather than respond with a scathing rejoinder.

She hears Maz calling for her.

“I have to go.” She doesn’t move.

“Okay.” He says softly.

She starts to walk toward Maz but stops, a thought pressing her mouth into speech. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ben?”

“See you tomorrow, Rey.”

She releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding and continues to Maz, the way Benjamin had looked when he laughed playing a double feature in the theatre of her mind.

☾

Later, after Maz has stuffed her full of everything in the fridge and she’s taken a long, hot shower, Rey opens the shiny laptop that she’s had yet to touch. She’d felt too guilty to use it, uncomfortable that Maz had spent so much money on her. 

Her fingers trace over the stiff keys and before she can let the absurdity of the situation change her mind, she pulls up the browser and types “super speed + super strength” into the search bar.

On an afterthought she adds, “inhuman beauty.”

Over a million results appear the second she clicks enter, but the top result, top because it’s from a local website, causes her dinner to sit like a rock in the pit of her stomach.

_The Cold One._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Keep up with my update schedule](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/updates).
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	10. Bad Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit that for some reason the last couple chapters have been really hard for me to write. My creative drive has been extremely low lately. Even though I have the entire plot outlined, it was extremely hard to visualize the story and I felt like my writing was absolute shit lol, so thank you to anyone that showed love on those last chapters, you gave me strength to push through!!! I was not looking forward to writing this chapter but somehow when I sat down, it just poured out of me and the story made sense again!! Sometimes you just gotta keep going!!!!
> 
>  **TW: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF CHILDHOOD PHYSICAL ABUSE AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER**.

All the blood drains from Rey’s face. 

Her throat feels bone dry all of a sudden, clicking as it constricts in a futile attempt to swallow.

Dumbfounded, she stares at those familiar three words. Strange how a random arrangement of alphabetical characters can have such horrifying connotations.

Her cursor hovers over the link to a blog post titled: _Myths and Legends of the Olympic Peninsula._ Rey lifts a finger, about to click, when common sense pours over her like a bucket of ice water.

Is she seriously going to entertain the idea that Benjamin isn’t human? That he's some creature from a story told to her by over-dramatic Keyan in a transparent attempt to make her more interested in Forks?

A shrill sound echoes in the bedroom. After a beat, Rey manages to identify it as her own hysterical laughter. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she slams the laptop shut and stands up.

Maybe everyone was right. Maybe the adrenaline did make her hallucinate. Maybe Benjamin only pushed her out of the truck’s trajectory.

_No._

She knows what she saw Benjamin do. Knows it like she knows her name, knows the desert, knows the sting of violence and pain.

There’s an explanation for everything, but it’s not this.

However...

Keyan said no one besides the witch ever discovered what the Cold One was. She’ll read the post, but only because the part about the mysterious monster had sparked her curiosity. Not for any other reason.

Hardly daring to breathe, Rey places herself back in the chair and opens the laptop. She clicks on the link.

Ignoring the gruesome paintings, she scrolls past a condensed version of the legend Keyan told. The person who’d written this blog entry, under the user _Bumblebee12_ , had apparently decided to focus on conspiracy theories rather than the actual myth. There’s paragraph after paragraph speculating about spells, and curses, witches and werewolves. A particular section jumps out at her:

Rey snickers and skips to the end of the section. _Werewolves, a reality. Some people are certifiably crazy._

As she finds the paragraphs dedicated to the Cold One, she tells herself she is not one of those people.

She reads that once. Then twice. Before her eyes can start on a third time, she shuts her laptop and shoves it in the desk drawer. 

_A vampire._

Is she really surprised? After all, _Bumblebee12_ had spent a good two pages claiming werewolves were real and integrated into society. The more she thinks about it, the stupider she feels for not putting two and two together at the beach. It’s so far-fetched, her brain hadn’t even put the thought in her conscious.

_It’s ludicrous. Vampires?!_

Benjamin Solo is not a vampire. That’s ridiculous. Contrary to what _Bumblee12_ thinks, vampires are a _myth_. Like werewolves. Like witches. Like the Legend of the Cold one.

No one is more aware than Rey that the supernatural is a scapegoat for the violent tendencies of man. Human beings are the ones capable of immoral wickedness.

Evil was born and resides in the hearts of men. Stories like this serve to make people feel better about their sins. Men like Unkar Plutt take comfort in the possibility that something rotten and more despicable than mankind could exist.

Rey decides the adrenaline rush from the accident has fried her synapses, momentarily disabling her grip on reality. Benjamin has the super strength, the beauty, the speed, but he’s not a _vampire_. He’s...well, she doesn’t know what he is. But it’s not a bloodsucking supernatural nightmare.

“Thanks for nothing, Google,” she grumbles.

A soft mewing emits from somewhere around her ankles and she reaches down, letting out a grunt of effort as she lifts the shaggy-haired tabby into her lap. “What is Maz feeding you?” 

Bebe has no answer for her, but his behavior is sheepish as he rears up onto his hindlegs, placing his front paws in the hollows made by her collarbones as he rubs his face against her cheek. A purr thunders from his chest and Rey can feel the vibrations as she strokes a hand through the thick fur on his right flank.

Bebe gives her a type of joy she didn’t know existed. Though Rey has lived in Forks for a little over a month, she realizes that she’s come to rely on his presence in her slumber. Her sleep may never be deep or complete, but she finds that it has been easier to drift off with Bebe, a warm ball in the crook of her knee.

 _Can I have this?_ She wonders, scratching behind a pointed ear. _Can I have the simple pleasure of owning a pet?_

The part of her that remembers the force of Plutt’s blows, says _no_ and warns her against attachment. Once, this part of Rey was not a piece, but all of her. She’s shocked to find that now there’s another voice inside her head, one that tells her she can have good things, that she is safe here.

She suspects that these two sides of her will always be at war. But for tonight, she lets the gentler voice win.

“C’mon, Bebe.” She stands, the tabby draped over her arms like an ancient king. 

She deposits the orange fur ball on her bed and reopens her computer. Rey doesn’t allow herself even a glimpse of the search results, swiftly deleting her history and crawling under the covers. Out of sight, out of mind.

_Vampires aren’t real._

☾

The next day, Keyan isn’t at school.

As Rey slides into her customary seat at the lunch table, brow creased in worry, Jess answers her question before it’s voiced, “I called his family this morning. They said the hospital kept him overnight for observation and they’re going to keep him there indefinitely.”

Rey frowns. “Indefinitely? Why?”

It’s obvious that Jess already relayed the information to Kaydel when the blonde responds, “They don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“His fever keeps increasing,” Jess whispers so quietly Rey almost doesn’t catch it. “The doctors don’t know how to help him. They’ve never seen anything like it.”

“He’ll be okay,” she says confidently.

“How can you possibly know that?” Jess is distraught. Rey notices the girl isn’t wearing her usual heavy layer of makeup, the circles under her eyes dark and her red hair flat and lifeless instead of the beachy waves she favors. 

She feels a stab of pity and tries to add a comforting lilt to her otherwise uncomforting words. “I don’t know.”

Jess’ eyes narrow and Rey braces herself, but Kaydel waves someone over. “Gil!”

_Shit._

The linebacker drops into Keyan’s seat beside her, his meaty thighs stretching the widest his jeans will allow. His knee crowds into Rey’s space, bumping against hers, and jostling her grip on the wrap Maz made for her, spilling a few pieces of chicken.

Unreasonable rage for such a small thing flares up and the hand not holding the wrap curls into a fist. She shoves her knee back against his with less force than she would like, but enough to send a message.

When his gaze flicks to her along with a smirk and wink, despair floods through her as she realizes he received the wrong message. His knee doesn’t leave its place against her own— he presses closer. Rey places her wrap down and discreetly lays her fists flat in her lap. She starts to pivot, preparing to rise and ram the heel of her palm upward into Gil Thorne’s nose. It’s Rey’s favorite move— there’s nothing more satisfying than feeling the cartilage of someone you hate crack under your hand and knowing that it will almost never heal straight.

She spreads her fingers, getting ready to twist—

“Does that sound good, Rey?”

“What?” She grits out. 

“Going to Port Angeles tomorrow to pick our homecoming dresses and tuxes?” Kaydel takes a dainty bite of her sandwich. “Honestly Rey, sometimes I think you intentionally don’t listen to a word we say.”

“Port Angeles?” Rey doesn’t even know where that is. “What’s wrong with Forks?”

“Yeah, they have a bunch of really cool dress shops. You can get great stuff for cheap!” A little bit of color is starting to return to Jess’ face, bolstered by the prospect of the upcoming dance and the purchasing of pretty things.

“I’m not going to the dance,” she states, over enunciating the words.

Kaydel shoots lasers at her and Rey can practically hear her whining: _Really? After I set you up with the linebacker?_

“Aw, c’mon,” Gil says and turns to her. Up close, she’s struck by the likeness between him and the big glob of mucus from those Mucinex commercials. “You don’t wanna go to the dance with me, sweetheart?” 

In Benjamin’s mouth that word had made her feel all fuzzy inside. Coming from Gil Thorne…it’s enough to make bile rise.

“Don’t call me—”

“Rey!” Kaydel interrupts, laughing nervously. “Don’t be silly. Of course, you’re going to the dance.”

Rey glares daggers at her. “ _No_ , I’m not—”

“Please.” Jess’s eyes are as big as saucers. They’re ringed with red and she knows that Jess spent all night crying about Keyan. Her throat feels tight witnessing this physical manifestation of Jess' feelings.“Please, Rey? You’re our friend. We want you there.”

Maybe it's because of Keyan or maybe it’s because of how young Jess looks in this moment. Maybe it’s the fact that she called Rey her friend or maybe it’s the memory of how worried the two girls had been after the accident. Maybe it's all of these reasons or maybe it's none of them. Either way, something gives her pause. She softens, as much as she _could_ soften, and observes Kaydel through a different lens. 

The cheerleader has had an extremely different life than Rey. Her way of showing she cares is by trying to give Rey a normal high school experience. By securing Rey a date to an important school dance. Even though Rey doesn’t see it as such, she knows that it’s come from good intentions. That, in a way, this is Kaydel’s love language. 

She finds herself nodding, “Alright.”

Both girls emit twin beams and underneath the table, Gil Thorne’s fleshy hand squeezes her knee. He leans in, his breath reeking of tobacco and strawberry, the awful concoction indicative of the vape he undoubtedly hits between periods. 

"I'm really glad you didn't die yesterday." The words are whispered into her ear, laced with dark promise. 

She doesn't say anything and, when she’s swallowed back the ensuing gag and her gaze has unconsciously flitted to the table Ben and his siblings occupy, she realizes there is not an Organa present.

For the first time since she arrived, _that_ table is completely empty.

Benjamin lied to her when he said he would see her tomorrow.

Why is that crushing disappointment worse than the hand stroking her kneecap?

☾

After school, she pedals to Poe’s so fast her feet cramp. 

She needs her escape. Machines don’t fluctuate. Machines are predictable. Machines don’t _lie_.

As she passes _Mos Eisley Cupcakes,_ an idea sparks. Maybe Poe has an explanation for the feat Benjamin performed. After the beach, he clearly knows more about the Organas than he’s letting on. 

When the tires of Maz’s bike crunch on the gravel outside the auto shop, it startles a young woman from her work of repainting the shop’s sign.

The woman drops the paint roller back in the pan and hops off the ladder, a guarded smile gracing her unlined face. She looks closer to Poe’s age than Rey’s. “You must be Rey Johnson.”

Rey dismounts, her wary expression mirroring the woman’s. She uses a process of elimination to arrive at her next words. “You must be Jyn.”

Jyn observes Rey from under a curtain of dark brown bangs, her piercing green eyes so large and round they seem to occupy most of her face. She must come to some conclusion because she extends a capable hand. “The very same.”

Rey accepts the handshake, pumping up and down once before withdrawing. “Nice to meet you.”

Jyn crouches back down, resuming her job. “Poe’s in the office.”

Nodding, Rey wheels the bike onto the shop floor and rests it in its usual place. As she enters, she’s greeted by the sight of Jai, Jannah, and Jacen, along with a trim man she’s never seen before. His features are narrow, hawkish, but there’s something open about them. She assumes this is Cassian.

The four of them don’t notice her, on a break and clumped in a circle. Each one is grimy, covered head to toe in a mixture of motor oil, dirt, and in Jacen’s case, what looks to be mustard.

“Big day?” She lightly interrupts.

Jannah’s face breaks into a wide grin. “Hey, Rey!”

Jai and Jacen’s identical smiles rival the strength of Jannah’s, the matching shape of them unnerving Rey, despite the knowledge of their shared heritage.

“What’s up— oh, this is Cassian.” Jai gestures to the man at her side.

Cassian steps forward, but he doesn’t offer her his hand. Instead, he gives her a curt nod, crossing thin, but still strong, arms across his chest. He’s as guarded as his girlfriend was, despite the friendlier tilt to his features. 

“I figured,” Rey says, returning his nod. She decides to leave them to their break, not wanting to intrude any more than she’d already had. If it was just Jai, Jacen, and Jannah, maybe she would have stayed longer, but Rey could tell that any trust she would earn from Cassian or Jyn would come with time. “Poe’s in the office, right?”

“Yeah,” Jannah starts to point to the corner where it’s located but stops, chuckling. “Sorry, force of habit. You know where it is.”

As Rey heads in that direction, she hears their friendly banter start up again, some good-natured argument about a game of touch football they’d played last night. 

Rey doesn’t bother knocking on the office door, less because of her budding friendship with Poe and more because of the fact that any manners she knows, she learned on her own, having no one around to teach her.

The second she barges into the stuffy little room she wishes she _had_ had someone to beat a sense of decorum into her. The only thing Plutt ever beat into her was an unappeasable anger.

Zorii is perched on the rickety wooden desk, curly hair messy and skin flushed. Poe stands in between her legs, trailing a line of hot kisses down the length of her neck to her cleavage. For a second, Rey’s worried Poe might be hurting her because she’s emitting a series of strangled gasping noises. It’s clear, however, that Poe is most decidedly _not_ hurting Zorii when she wraps her long legs around his waist, tugging him closer and locking him there by crossing her ankles over his ass.

Rey turns a bright scarlet.

She clears her throat awkwardly and the two spring apart, red-faced and panting.

“Rey, I—uh— thought you would knock.” As Poe turns to discreetly adjust himself, it looks like his normally dark brown eyes are a shocking silver. When he faces her though, his eyes are chocolate and so she brushes it off as a trick of the light.

“Sorry, I’ll, um, I’ll give you two a minute.” She stutters, backing out and shutting the door behind her.

She’s internally berating herself when Poe sticks his head out, mere seconds later. “Rey? You can come back in.”

Ashamed and embarrassed, she slinks back into the tiny office, choosing to focus on the sight of her muddy sneakers rather than Poe and Zorii.

She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m really sorry about that. I should have knocked.”

Poe slides into the desk chair with a noncommittal grunt. “It’s alright, just, uh—”

“—remember to knock next time.” Zorii interjects with an awkward laugh. There’s a huge hickey blooming right above her left breast. Rey pretends she doesn’t see it.

“Great!” She replies with enthusiastic relief. Wanting to completely forget about what she’d witnessed, she changes the subject. “Uh, got any tasks for me?” She asks Poe.

Poe snaps his fingers, all traces of discomfort vanishing. He rises, heading past Zorii, to the far corner of the room where a large cardboard box waits. “Here.”

She follows him. “What is it?”

Poe’s boyish grin makes a startling reappearance. “Your parts.”

Rey squeals, she actually _squeals_ , and she launches herself into Poe’s arms. Poe lets out a full body laugh, shooting Zorii a fond glance over the top of Rey’s head.

Rey releases him, too hyped up to process her new habit of hugging people, and bends down, opening the box to find all the parts needed to fix Maz’s dead husband’s truck. She reaches into the box and inspects each part one by one, her nimble fingers tracing the grooves in the metal reverently.

She looks up at Poe, strong and kind, with Zorii beside him, lithe and beautiful, a slender arm wrapped around his waist, and she is so full of gratitude she could burst. “Thank you.” She whispers. “They’re beautiful.”

Poe’s eyes sparkle. “No need to thank me. You’ve earned them.”

Rey sets each part back in the box carefully. “Well, I haven’t earned them yet.” She rises, making sure the flaps have safely enclosed her treasures in their cardboard cage, like there was a possibility of them running away. “Task?”

Poe’s handsome face takes on a pinched expression and Zorii squeezes his waist comfortingly. He runs a hand through his black hair, messing up the coiled array. “Rey…I gotta be honest. Business has been exceedingly slow lately.”

“What does that mean?”

Poe’s mouth opens, his Adam's apple bobbing as he searches for the words. Zorii, sensing his struggle, sighs softly, smoothing an errant curl behind one of his ears. “It means we might have to close the shop soon.”

“What?” Rey shouts, frantically glancing between the couple, hoping they would say they were joking. When neither of them speak, she looks down at her box of parts, dismayed. “And I let you buy these?” She points at the cardboard with purpose. “Take them back and ask for a refund.”

“But you need those parts to fix your truck,” Poe protests.

“And you need a place to live!” Rey counters.

Poe is just as stubborn as she is. “Those are your parts. I won’t take them back.”

“God—” She swivels to his girlfriend, helpless. “Zorii, tell him.”

Zorii laughs, the sound reminding Rey of Maz’s wind-chimes twinkling in the breeze. “Once Poe’s made his mind up, nothing’s going to change it. Not even me.”

Poe looks at Zorii then, his face morphing into an expression she’s never seen before, an expression for Zorii and Zorii alone.

Rey deflates, “What are we going to do then?”

“ _We_ aren’t going to do anything.” Poe separates himself from Zorii with a gentle caress over her forearm, returning to his desk chair. He plops into it, the ancient springs creaking loudly as they strain against their bonds of rust. Poe kicks his sneakered feet up on the desk, interlacing his fingers behind his head. “This is my shop, Rey. My shop, my problem.”

“I happen to like your shop, Poe, and I don’t want to see it go into the hands of anybody else.” 

Zorii sits on the paper-littered desk, mirroring her earlier position, except she crosses her legs this time. “Don’t worry, Rey. You’re seventeen. We’re adults. We’ll figure it out.”

She feels very small when she asks, “Promise?”

“Promise.” Poe and Zorii’s voices echo in perfect sync, as if the three of them were actors performing a scripted play.

A new thought fills her with cold dread. “Does this mean I don’t have to come in anymore?”

Poe sighs. “There won’t likely be anything to do, I gotta give all the jobs to my crew first.” He can probably sense her disappointment at his words because his next sentence is considerably louder. “But I suppose I could always find something…” 

“Yes! I want to be helpful. Give me anything.”

“Well,” Zorii stands, heading over to the row of file cabinets, “there’s still some papers that need to be organized.”

Rey never would have thought she would ever be excited about filing. She moves to Zorii and the two begin the tedious task Rey had started a couple weeks ago. The three of them lapse into comfortable silence, permeated only by Poe’s occasional questions about taxes to Zorii, and Zorii’s muttered instructions to Rey about the very specific way the 2005 records need to be stored.

She doesn’t know how long they work in near silence, but only when she catches sight of another file marked _H. Solo_ does she remember the plan she’d formed on the bike ride here.

In a perfect mimic of the same nonchalant tone she’d used before to interrogate Poe about the Solo files, she says, “I almost died yesterday.”

Poe had made ramen and now he chokes on a mouthful of noodles. From behind her she hears his fork clatter to the desk and Zorii stares across the heap of files between them at Rey, her mouth hanging open in shock.

“What?” Poe coughs.

Rey shrugs, her attention focused on the files. “It was after school and I was in the parking lot. Keyan was driving and he lost control of his truck. He swerved and he would have killed me, but—”

“He lost control of his truck?” Zorii asks incredulously. “What, was he shitfaced again?”

“No, he was really sick with a fever. He got worse after the beach. But I’m okay because of—”

Zorii freezes, the files she was holding thudding to the floor. She whips around to face Poe just as he straightens, ramen abandoned.

“What kind of fever?” Poe asks slowly.

“No one knows, but it’s really bad. I rode in the car with him on the way to the hospital and I checked it. But what I’m trying to tell you is—”

Zorii grabs her shoulders, her eyes wild as she peers into Rey’s. “Was he exceedingly hot, so hot you almost couldn’t touch him because you were afraid your own skin would burn off?”

Rey blinks at the curly-haired woman. “Yeah. How did you—”

She’s once again cut off as the couple stands, going to the coat rack and pulling on their jackets. She stands too. “Where are you guys going?”

Poe doesn’t respond, buttoning up his coat with a grim set to his shapely mouth. “Where is Keyan?”

“At the hospital. Jess said he has to stay there until they figure out what’s wrong with him.”

Poe glances meaningfully at Zorii before striding from the room, a determined manner to his gait. Rey makes to follow, but Zorii blocks her path. “Rey, you need to go home.”

She crosses her arms, firmly planting her feet. “I’m staying right here until you tell me what’s going on. He’s my...friend.”

Zorii’s mouth twists like she wants to argue, but after a glance over her shoulder, she relents. “We think we know what’s wrong with Keyan.”

Rey’s hands fall to her sides. “You do?”

“That’s where we’re going now. To him. To help him.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“We don’t know if we’re right yet.” Zorii’s heavy boots clump on the wooden floor as she heads after Poe. Before she leaves, she tosses back a soft, “Go home, Rey.”

Zorii disappears in a cloud of dirty blonde curls and Rey sighs in frustration.

She didn’t get to ask them about Benjamin.

☾

Unkar Plutt visits her in her dream that night.

_She’s ten years old, underfed with scabby knees and elbows, and she can’t remember the last time she ate. Plutt’s passed out in front of the TV, a beer in his meaty paw, his sizable gut spilling over the hem of his boxers, his wife beater stained._

_Beside him is a paper plate on which is a half-eaten hamburger. It’s probably cold by now, but she couldn’t care less. It’s food and Rey’s not picky when it comes to food._

_She’ll just have a bite. Just one bite and she’ll put it back. Plutt would never notice._

_Tiptoeing across the dingy carpet, Rey stops every time the man so much as twitches. His fat head is tipped back on the headrest, his mouth open so wide, Rey can see the cavities in his molars. He snores, loudly, the sound as recognizable to her as her own name, but horribly grating. That sound prevents her from sleeping._

_She’s so close, saliva beginning to pool with her proximity to food. One tiny hand reaches out, comically small against the backdrop of such a morbidly obese man. She’s swiped the hamburger, raising it to her lips, when she accidentally steps back on the remote, the volume skyrocketing to maximum level and causing her to jump, bumping into Plutt’s beer and knocking the bottle onto his crotch._

_He roars in pain as the glass hits his most private area, the liquid gushing out and soaking his boxers. Plutt’s eyes snap open, his beady gaze finding her instantly. “C’mere, you little bitch.” He lunges forward, but Plutt is made of a couple hundred pounds of pure fat while Rey is sixty pounds of skin and bone. She’s faster and spurred by the hollow hunger eating her body from within._

_Hamburger clutched to her skeletal chest, she dashes out the front door, sprinting into the street and running as fast as her short legs would carry her. She hears him crashing around behind her, bellowing his fury._

_Rey remembers this moment. She knows what happens next. The starving ten-year-old darts into the nearest alley and scarfs down the hamburger so violently she begins to hiccup. She doesn’t even have a moment to catch her breath before Plutt is there yanking her back to the house by her hair, smacking her a couple times. Rey knows it’s just a warmup. Rey knows that once that door shuts behind them, he’ll hit her so hard he knocks out a couple baby teeth._

_Only, the moment never comes. She never reaches the alley._

_Instead, she runs right into a solid mass, clad head to toe in black, scaring her so bad she drops the hamburger._

_“What the—” grumbles a deep voice, foreign but achingly familiar._

_Little Rey trembles, peering up at this dark stranger with wide eyes. She wraps her arms around the tree trunk of his legs, bursting into frantic tears. “You have to save me, he’s coming.”_

_"Who’s coming?”_

_Plutt’s footsteps seem to shake the earth as he advances and Rey buries her head in the man’s legs, the smell of him comforting. She feels Plutt approaching and pulls on the man’s jeans desperately. “Please, help me. Please.”_

_Without another word the stranger sweeps her into strong arms cloaked in leather, and—_

_Rey is seventeen again, held bridal style in Benjamin’s muscular arms. Her own are wrapped around his neck and they are standing somewhere in the forests of Washington, on a rocky outcrop, the nearly full moon shimmering in the black of night._

_He doesn’t put her down._

_She doesn’t ask him to._

_“Thank you,” she murmurs, nuzzling the hollow beneath his jaw, near the line of his scar. Real-life Benjamin would never let her touch him like this, but real-life Benjamin would also never hold her like this, curled in his arms and clenched tightly to his chest like she’s precious cargo._

_Sometimes her dreams are nice to her._

_She sighs in pure content, pressing her nose as close as possible to Benjamin’s skin, inhaling lungfuls of his thunderstorm scent directly from the source. Rey could get high off of this._

_“You always seem to be in some kind of trouble,” Benjamin muses. He doesn’t turn into her touch, but he doesn’t lean away either._

_Rey giggles softly, leaning up slightly and nipping at Ben’s earlobe. “I am trouble.”_

_His body turns to rock. “Don’t do that.”_

_She does it again._

_“Rey…” He warns, a dangerous lilt to his voice._

_She sinks her teeth into the delicate area, her tongue flicking curiously at the skin. Benjamin moans, the reverberation disconcertingly loud in their landscape of quiet nature. He wrenches her off his ear and grabs her arms from around his neck, shackling them in an iron grip. Her feet fall to the ground and she would have to, if it weren’t for the weight of his other arm at her upper back, anchoring her to Earth._

_He’s impossibly close and his smell is blurring her senses. His eyes are fathomless like the starry night sky above them, his pale skin turned silver under the moonlight. “What did I say?” He growls, but the sound is choked somewhere in the back of his throat and it’s not as intimidating as she thinks Benjamin intended._

_His lips are full, pink like a girl’s. She traces the outline worshipfully, trying to commit the feel of his body to waking memory, and his lips part in surprise, his grip on her wrists tightening._

_“Tell me you feel it too.” Her voice is dreamlike, hypnotically slow, lulled by the drug of him._

_"Rey, stop.” A weak plea, not a command._

_She presses her thumb to his bottom lip, dragging it down and watching it pop back up. “Ben…”_

_“Rey…”_

_“Tell me you feel it too…” Her tongue flicks out and she experimentally licks the path she traced with her fingers and the seam of his lips. She wants to see if he tastes as good as he smells. This is a dream after all, and she intends to use it to her full advantage._

_“I feel…” He sighs against her mouth. “I feel…”_

Rey startles awake. She’s overheated, her blankets thrown on the floor. Her bones are jelly and when she shifts herself into a sitting position, she feels wetness in between her thighs.

Gasping in realization, a deep blush starts at the top of her hairline and travels all the way down to the tops of her breasts.

She came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY I KNOW BEN ISN'T REALLY IN THIS CHAPTER, HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE BUT I GOT TO THE DREAM PART AND REALIZED THAT I'D WRITTEN 18 PAGES AND WHAT I STILL HAD TO WRITE WOULD BE AT LEAST ANOTHER 10 AND 28 PAGES IS WAYYY TOO LONG FOR ONE CHAPTER SO I CHOPPED IT IN HALF. I PROMISE I WILL POST THE OTHER HALF ASAP. I HOPE U STILL ENJOY THE LITTLE BIT OF BEN IN THIS ONE. I DON'T KNOW WHY I WROTE THIS IN ALL CAPS. 
> 
> Anyone else relate to the feeling of having a man sit down next to you and manspread into your space, despite your clear discomfort?? Gil Thorne is a conglomerate of all my least favorite men if you couldn't tell.
> 
> Rey's thoughts on the concept of vampires are inspired by one of my favorite quotes: _"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness." —Joseph Conrad_
> 
> [Mr. Mucus from the Mucinex commercials](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/villains/images/c/cb/Mucus_%28Mucinex%29.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/340?cb=20180205023930)
> 
> [Keep up with my update schedule](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/updates).
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	11. Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to NobodyBreaksMyHeart for these lovely  
> [moodboards](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/post/615774967459708928/awesome-moodboards-made-by-nobodybreaksmyheart-on)!!!
> 
> **TW: ATTEMPTED RAPE AND FLASHBACKS TO DUB CON SEX. THE FLASHBACKS ARE INTERWOVEN THROUGHOUT THE BEGINNING AND THE ATTEMPTED RAPE AT THE END IS _VERY_ GRAPHIC. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF IT MAY BE TRIGGERING. I WILL PUT A SHORT CHAPTER DESCRIPTION AT THE END IF YOU DECIDE TO FOREGO THE WHOLE CHAPTER.**

The ride to Port Angeles is only about an hour long, but Jess and Kaydel make it feel like a small eternity. 

The two blare generic pop and sing along at the top of their lungs, their voices cracking as they try to reach a note that makes the singer sound angelic but makes them sound like banshees. Kaydel and Jess aren't aware of this fact and with each song their volume only increases. Resisting the urge to jam her fingers in her ears, Rey congratulates herself for having the foresight to sit in the backseat. 

After school, Rey had found the cheerleaders beside Kaydel's car, accompanied by Gil Thorne.

Lumbering at the linebacker’s side and somehow managing to make all two hundred seventy-five pounds of Gil look puny, stood another football player who Rey figured to be the infamous Seff Hellin. Roving her gaze over the quarterback’s substantial form, she thought that the rumors about his dick being ten inches might have some truth to them. She’d never seen a man as enormous as him. It was like somebody had taken the Hulk, bleached his skin, dyed his hair bright yellow, and shoved him in a high school football jersey.

Both of these men were big, but not in the way Benjamin’s big. Benjamin would probably stand at their same height or a little bit taller if you lined the three of them up, but where his musculature was soothing, protective even, there was a sharp glint in the eyes of the football players and a hard set to their rounded shoulders that made their large, burly natures overbearing and threatening, bordering on predatory.

Even though Kaydel and Jess are currently managing to make Kaydel’s spacious Jeep feel more like a shoebox, Rey’s grateful that Gil and Seff decided they would take Seff's yellow Mustang. Their presence would make the Jeep a coffin.

Rey rests her head against the window and watches the rain trickle down the glass, the car's speed blurring the tree line into an abstract watercolor. Her mind rushes with the scenery, replaying last night’s dream.

_That worn leather jacket he always wears so soft against her fingertips…_

_His skin, clean and smooth, but for the faint stubble on his jaw…_

_That jaw, impossibly strong, like his arms that held her, carried her, protected her…_

_The smell of thunderstorms and spice filling her nose…_

_…that scent echoed in the taste of the skin of his ear…the taste of his lips…that taste igniting something within her…something that burns hot and fierce…_

_…burning,_

_burning,_

_burning…._

Rey blushes, fidgeting as her body responds to the memories with a dull throb. She feels weak all of the sudden, her palms clammy, her skin too tight. She sweeps her too-long hair off the back of her neck, glad for the little coolness it provides.

Nothing has ever felt like this.

Pain was the only memorable aspect of her first sexual experience and her hurried masturbatory sessions had never been anything but clinical, but coming untouched from a dream in which there’d been no sex was weird for anybody, not just Rey. 

_What has he done to me?_

She shoves her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket, unconsciously curling them into fists. Her fingertips brush something crumpled. Confused, she takes out the object.

It's a hundred-dollar bill.

That morning, right before she’d ducked out for school, Rey had remembered to tell Maz where she was going that night. Her wise, bespectacled gaze had gleamed and the old woman had reached into her purse, producing the money that Rey now holds.

She’d recoiled from the offering, refusing Maz’s gift, arguing that she had enough saved up from the weekly allowances to buy something passable. Rey would not take any more charity from Maz, but as it turns out her foster mother had other ideas and had snuck the money into Rey’s jacket. 

Doesn’t mean she has to use it.

Rey jams the bill as deep as it would go into the back pocket of her pants. Maz will be asleep when she returns and she'll sneak the money back into Maz's purse.

Kaydel takes a hard left, parking right in front of a place called Claire’s Boutique. The blonde cuts the music as she and Jess leap from the vehicle, babbling excitedly about color palettes and undertones. Stifling a groan, Rey follows, taking a look around as best she can in the waning hours of dusk.

Like everything else in this corner of the world, the street they’ve parked on is microscopic. Down the way, Rey can see that the road becomes a tiny roundabout, with twisted alleys feeding off the spherical center like spokes on a wheel. The center is crowned by a dry fountain in the middle of a patch of greenery.

All the houses are low to the ground and crammed together unevenly in a style that reminds Rey of the crooked rows of Plutt’s yellowing teeth. She takes a closer look and realizes that the houses aren’t just houses, but shops as well.

There’s nothing overtly special about the shops on this street. Across the boutique, there’s a dentist and a dry-cleaning service. It’s clear that these are all small family businesses, which are abundant in Forks. Why they had to drive an hour to come here, Rey has no idea.

She hears Gil and Seff before she sees them. 

They roar into the quiet neighborhood, the yellow Mustang streaking color into the fast-approaching night. An obnoxious death metal song blares as they park haphazardly— half on the sidewalk— behind Kaydel's Jeep. Seff exits the sports car before it comes to a full stop, winding an arm around Kaydel and yanking her into a sloppy kiss.

 _Ugh._ Rey crinkles her nose in distaste. _It must be like kissing a dog._

A beefy hand wanders down Kaydel’s back and smacks her ass. The cheerleader shrieks, slapping Seff’s hand away as he sniggers, reaching around her to do it again. 

_Scratch that. Not a dog. A_ mutt _._

As Gil springs from the car, Rey quickly turns and feigns interest in the cursive script of the shop’s sign, hoping he doesn’t expect the same thing from her. She stiffens when she feels him approach. He curls his arms around her waist, his breath hot on the back of her neck.

She can’t do this.

Ripping herself free, she grabs her allowance from her breast pocket. Rey throws the handful of bills at Jess, who catches them with surprise.

“What is this?”

“My money. Take it. Buy me whatever dress you want. I’m going for a walk.”

Seff finally stops groping Kaydel when she starts towards Rey. “You’re not gonna shop with us?”

“What is this, sweetheart? You don’t wanna try on dresses for me?” Gil leers.

Within her, the urge to barf and the urge to fight war. “I’m not feeling well. Call me when you guys are done.” Rey turns on her heel.

“You can’t just disappear!” Jess protests. “It’s gonna be dark soon, you’ll get lost!”

“I’ll be fine!” Rey calls, already striding in the direction of the fountain at brisk pace, Gil’s eyeline burning a hole in the back of her pants. His gaze is sticky and she can feel it crawling like spiders over her skin. The need to escape mounts in her until she’s running, sprinting, down the street, her sneakers slapping the pavement. She heard them shouting after her in the distance, but no one tries to follow.

Rey runs until she can’t breathe and her lungs are bursting. She runs, fists and teeth clamped, hair whipping in the wind she creates. She runs, trying to forget the smothering press of Gil Thorne, it’s too similar to that awful summer, to Trent and his basement and the scratchy upholstery of that couch—

Rey slams her eyes closed against the onslaught of flashbacks, stopping short and panting hard. She bends over, hands on her knees, and retches, her lunch coming up in foul chunks. 

“Oh, dear.”

Rey raises her head, a long trail of spit dangling from her open mouth. 

Above her is a figure clad in an odd assortment of loose linens, similar to the type of clothing Maz wears. Slowly, Rey rights herself and swipes the back of her hand over her mouth.

The person before her is diminutive, coming up only to Rey’s collarbone— and Rey isn't that tall. At first glance, she thought the person was a child, but the closer Rey looks the older the eyes seem. Their eyes are a startling shade of green, a deep emerald, and they bore into her with chilling accuracy. 

A mop of spiky carrot-colored hair crowns their head, cropped close to their skull. Their face, jagged and full of uneven angles, is avian. So is their demeanor— they're perched on the balls of their feet as if they would take flight any second. They remind Rey of how she looked before she came to Forks and got access to regular meals— waif-like. 

She opens her mouth, about to apologize for puking near this person, but comes to find she has no idea what to call them. Their clothes are shapeless. She can’t identify if this is a man or a woman, any femininity in their appearance contradicting with an inherent masculinity. The person seems to flicker between the two, when they cock their head to better survey Rey, the light of the streetlamp hits their face differently and makes her certain that this is a woman, but just as fast, the person is righting themselves, and before her stands a little boy, no more than ten.

But then they speak. “Come with me, little one.”

That is the voice of an adult. 

Or is it?

When they glance back and notice Rey still frozen over her pile of vomit, their voice softens into a high peal. “Come now. This way.”

They beckon her once before disappearing around the corner. Rey looks down, brows raising at the sight of the person’s bare feet. 

Her curiosity would be the death of her. Plutt always said so.

Stepping over the product of bad memories, Rey follows this strange person who seems to be both man and woman and yet neither, down the darkening alley. Rey watches them dart around in front of her, squinting to see them, and marveling at this person’s inability to fit into the restraints of society. Gender, sex, age, race…it’s all up in the air. Rey has no clue how to define this person. 

Rey and this stranger make an odd pair as they stop in front of a door painted to look exactly like the alley wall. The disguise works, Rey didn’t notice it until the person had halted and produced a small iron key, fitting it in the lock and pushing the door open. The person steps to the side, gesturing for Rey to enter.

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head. “You first.”

The stranger responds with their own shake. “Come, come. No hurt, little one. Only reprieve.”

The second they say ‘reprieve’ Rey becomes aware of the headache squeezing her temples and the dryness of her throat.

“I can help.” The person ghosts a spindly finger over the origin of Rey’s pain. “If you so choose.” 

What could it hurt?

“I choose.” She gasps, advancing into the gaping black hole of the doorway. 

She hears a scurrying sound behind her and the dark is eaten away by light, revealing a basement overrun with plants. It’s a menagerie, except instead of animals, there’s every kind of greenery under the sun. Some she recognizes, but most she doesn’t. 

In awe, she trails her fingertips over the elephant ear-shaped leaf of the closest plant. She cranes her head back, noticing racks upon racks of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, similar to the arrangement Maz has set up in her kitchen. 

“What is this place?” She breathes.

“A place of answers.” A loud rustling follows the stranger’s cryptic statement and Rey starts, realizing she's lost sight of them. Feeling a prickle of fear trace cold fingers down her spine, Rey moves forward, pursuing the sound of the androgynous voice. “But, perhaps for you, a place of more questions.”

Rey gives an inward sigh of relief as she rounds the corner made by a spiral-shaped bush balanced on top of a barrel and sees the stranger.

They’re standing behind a heavy wooden table almost as tall as they are. Like every inch of the room, the surface is covered in florae. They clear a spot before spinning around to the massive wall of cubby holes behind them, each cell containing a different sprig of some herb or flower. Clicking their tongue thoughtfully, the person reaches for a space down by their peculiarly bare feet, but changes their mind at the last second, reaching nearby for an unoccupied crate and pushing it towards a certain spot. Whistling cheerfully, they nimbly climb on top of the box, stretching to reach a different hole and removing the herb inside.

The stranger hops off their makeshift ladder. They scoot it closer to the table so when Rey finally nears, the stranger looms above her. The merry tune the stranger whistles continues as they produce a wicked looking blade from nowhere, its hilt wrapped in animal hide.

Rey freezes, retreating from the table as slowly as possible so as to not arouse suspicion. The person doesn’t notice her fear, laying down the branch of herb and chopping so fast the knife becomes nothing more than a blur of metal. 

Fascinated with the practiced ease of the motion, Rey creeps forward, curiosity once again outweighing any modicum of self-preservation. The herb is dried like all the others, stiff with small white flowers and green leaves that resemble little ferns. She doesn’t know the name of it and she now resolves to pay more attention when she helps Maz in the garden.

“What answers do you have?” She asks softly, not wanting to break the spell the stranger knits with the rhythmic song of metal against wood. 

The person smiles wryly, their tune quieting to a hum. “What answers do you seek, little one?”

“Who are you?”

“I am no one.”

 _Benjamin said that to me in the meadow. The day we met._ She narrows her eyes to needle-like points, wariness making her hostile. “Someone else said that to me once.”

The person scoops up the chopped herb and deposits the leaves into a mug the same dark wood as the table. “Many people are no one.” They turn to the left and bend down over a hearth Rey just now notices. The basement is so dimly lit, so crowded with lush foliage, that you aren’t even aware something exists until it’s right in front of your nose. There’s a soft whoosh and suddenly, a roaring fire takes the place of dark coals. “It is not uncommon.” The stranger hangs a rusted kettle on the long rod over the fire before they pull back, wiping their hands on their pants with satisfaction, stepping back up onto their crate. “But I, little one, I am truly no one.”

Rey allows herself to be mesmerized by the fire’s dancing flames. “What do I call you then?”

“I have many names. But you may call me Bastet.”

“Well, Bastet,” Rey rests her elbows on the tabletop. “What is this place?”

Bastet’s jade eyes sparkle with good humor. “You have already asked that.”

“You told a riddle. You didn’t tell me the truth.”

“Ah, the truth.” Bastet leans forward, tapping the side of their nose with a wink. “That’s where things get muddy.”

Bastet darts back to the fireplace as if an alarm had gone off in their head. They grab a potholder and remove the kettle from its hook, filling the mug with boiling water. A drawer yields a tiny silver spoon, and Bastet stirs the homemade tea until the leaves are completely dissolved. They push the mug toward Rey.

“Drink, little one.” Bastet urges. “It will help. You have chosen.”

Rey would have to be awfully stupid to accept a drink from a total stranger as kooky as Bastet. Especially since she’s in said stranger’s basement. 

She thinks at this point she’s established her utter lack of a will to live. Really, it would be inconsistent if she changed now. 

Cupping the mug in both hands, Rey lifts it to her face, inhaling the earthy smell of the tea. Experimentally, she takes a sip, a part of her expecting to drop dead with the first swallow.

She doesn’t. 

Instead, a strange warmth fills her, consuming all traces of discomfort. She gulps at the drink eagerly. Despite its earthy smell, the tea tastes sweet and even though it’s steaming, the liquid doesn’t burn her throat. Before she knows it, she’s finished and slammed the mug back down on the tabletop.

Her migraine is completely gone. And so is her dehydration. And the sore muscles she seems to always have.

It’s like she’s been born again. Energy she’s never known spirals through her, her grin a skyscraper in the skyline of her face. 

“That was _incredible_. What’s in that?”

Bastet reaches for the mug, dumping the dregs of the tea into the fire. “An herb called Feverfew. It helps with migraines. Among other things.”

Rey’s silent, watching them clean up. It’s not the uncomfortable silence that usually exists between strangers. It’s something almost familiar.

Bastet is the first to break it, returning to their place on the crate. Methodically, they begin to organize the heap of dried herbs covering the table into three groups. “You have more questions.”

Rey hesitates. “Yes.”

Bastet inclines their head and the movement is regal, completely unlike the sporadic actions they’ve previously exhibited. “You may ask.”

She’s not even thinking about Benjamin. She means to ask more about the herbs and the strange underground jungle she’s found herself in, but instead what comes out is— “The person who told me that they were no one…”

Bastet hums, indicating for her to continue.

In the future, Rey will have no idea what possessed her to speak the following words to a stranger. “I think- I saw him do something, something impossible— and I—” She licks her lips, her throat suddenly dry despite the tea she just drank. “There’s a part of me, a small part, but a part that doesn’t— that doesn’t think he’s human.” By the time she’s reached the end of her spiel, her voice is little more than a whisper and her eyes have lowered to the table.

Rey waits for the laughter to come, for Bastet to tell her she needs to see a mental health professional and to kick her out of her homegrown forest. When the laughter doesn’t come, she jerks her head up, surprised to find Bastet watching her with a thoughtful gleam in those too green eyes. 

“What is it that you think he is, little one?”

“I—" Rey can’t say this. There’s no possible way that she can voice this thought aloud. But it’s like someone else has control of her body and her synapses fire into speech before she can stop them. “I think he might be a..." Her courage fizzles out; the impossible word emerges in a squeak. "...vampire.”

She waits with bated breath, locked in a staring match with Bastet, whose wide eyes remain unblinking. In fact, Bastet shows no outward surprise of Rey’s claim, as if every day she brings in skinny teenage girls who puke in front of their home and claim they know a mythical creature.

Wordlessly, Bastet leaps down, their feet making no noise as they vanish into the rows of greenery. 

“Wait!” Rey cries, whipping around and chasing after the ripple of fluttering linen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t really think vampires exist. I don’t know why I said that. I—”

She skids to a stop, rambling cut short as she stumbles upon Bastet suspended in a small tree. It’s growing out of the same type of crate that they were perching on, its branches stretching upward towards a skylight that currently reveals the full moon, glowing with ethereal silver light and casting a shadow upon Bastet’s face where they hide, partially obstructed by the leaves.

They let out a low hiss as Rey nears, the noise something untamed, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand straight up. She raises her palms in the universal sign for surrender.

“I’m sorry.” Rey’s desperate to explain, maybe to Bastet, but most likely to herself. “I’m not crazy, I promise.”

“You would fraternize with the children of an oathbreaker, little one?” The leaves rustle as Bastet shifts, their oddly colored eyes laser focused on Rey.

“I don’t know what that means!” 

For some reason, this breaks the haze that’s cloaked Bastet. They slide from the tree, approaching Rey at a leisurely pace until she is nose to nose with them. 

Bastet calms, reading Rey’s face like she had seen devout people in Nevada pour over the Bible. “You do not know.” They pat Rey’s cheek, the gesture nearly fond. “But you will, little one. You will.”

Bastet turns, the moonlight catching the side of their face and illuminating an ear cleaved by a deep scar. She squints— the wound looks eerily familiar— but Bastet moves and the moment is broken, leaving Rey to wonder if she's imagining things.

Bastet forages under the twisted roots of the tree, grunting with satisfaction when they find what they’re looking for. They rise holding a black cord from which a crystal dangles. The crystal is small, about the size of Rey’s pinky, and it's pure, snow white, no translucency at all.

It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Rey steps forward with a hand outstretched. Ignoring her, Bastet places the crystal around Rey’s neck. It falls between her breasts, resting solidly against her heart.

“Thank you,” Rey says, overwhelmed.

“It is rightfully yours. You will require it.” Bastet glances in what Rey assumes is the direction of the door, but she can’t know for certain because all she can see is plants. “It is time now, little one. Go.” They grip Rey’s wrist, their touch feather-light but insistent. Bastet tugs Rey forward, expertly weaving through the green maze until they arrive at the door.

Bastet opens it, the cool night rushing in and causing Rey to shiver, despite the flannel lining of her jacket. Her hand comes up to clutch at her necklace as the wind howls outside. The light rain has turned into a torrential downpour and night has truly begun, the starry sky hidden behind angry storm clouds. Suddenly, the last thing she wants to do is leave.

She says as much.

Bastet shakes their head sadly, but doesn’t budge. “You must go, little one."

“Will I ever see you again?”

“Whenever you have need of me, I will be there.”

“But, I— I want to repay you for your gift.” She racks her brain as her hands fumble at her sides. Her fingers graze her back pocket, her eyes lighting up. "Here."

She pulls out the hundred dollar bill Maz gave her and offers it to Bastet. 

They make no move to accept it.

"Take it. Please. The crystal can't have been cheap." She shakes the bill. "Please."

Bastet creeps forward. Without a word, they close Rey's fingers around the money. 

“Go.” Bastet shoves Rey back into the alley and she stumbles, surprised at the strength they possess. The bill crumples as her hand clenches reflexively. 

She's righting herself and sticking the money back in her pocket, heading the way she came, when Bastet calls—

“Rey!”

She turns, splashing in a puddle and dampening her sneakers, her hair plastered to her head by the pounding rain. Bastet stands in the doorway, but all Rey can see is the outline of them and their two emerald eyes glittering in the darkness like jewels.

Bastet’s voice is low, emulating that same hissing-growl they’d taken on in the tree. “The belonging you seek is not behind you. It is ahead."

Rey blinks water out of her eyes. “What belonging?"

But Bastet offers her no more. They withdraw into the depths of their menagerie, the door slamming shut with an ominous echo. Rey wants to pound on it, force Bastet to give her some answers and let her in from the rain, but she doesn’t.

She heads back the way she came, her fingers wrapped around the crystal, the only indication that the previous events were not a hallucination. What the fuck was that? _Who_ the fuck was that?

Rey freezes, her breath catching.

She’d never told Bastet her name.

Perhaps if Rey hadn’t been reeling from her experience, her mind working at a hundred miles per hour, she would have heard the thundering footsteps, kicking up mud and rainwater as they accosted her from behind. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been taken so off guard when a fleshy hand wrapped across her mouth and an arm slid across her stomach.

But Rey’s so frozen, so lost in the perplexing words of Bastet, that she doesn’t register the arms around her until it’s too late and she’s being yanked away from the painted door and dragged down a smaller, grimier, darker alley.

Rey comes alive, kicking and thrashing. She doesn’t scream. She focuses all her energy on getting out of the hold, but it’s hard to find purchase on the fabric of her attacker’s clothing, rain-slicked as it is.

Lips are at the shell of her ear, huffing breath, and the rancid smell of it creeps forward and finds its way up her nostrils. _Artificial strawberries and nicotine…_

Rey puts two and two together before he even speaks.

“Stop struggling, baby. I’ll make it good for you.” Gil Thorne purrs, the hand that isn’t covering her mouth running up her side. Bile rises in the back of her throat and she feels she may puke again, despite having only Bastet’s tea in her stomach.

“What do you mean ‘I’?”

There is no chance in hell Rey is getting out of this.

Seff Hellin steps into the subdued patch of light offered by the nearest streetlamp.

_Fuckfuckfuck. Where are Jess and Kaydel?_

“Sorry, Seff, but I saw her first, so I go first.” Gil brushes her wet hair out of the way with his grubby fingers and sucks harshly on her neck. She flinches, overcoming the shock of Seff’s arrival and renewing her efforts to escape.

Seff tuts, prowling towards her as Gil digs his teeth into her delicate skin. “None of that, Rey.” His grasps her chin under Gil’s hand, squeezing the flesh so hard she sees stars. “It’s gonna feel so good. Aren’t you lucky Jess and Kaydel sent us searching for you?”

He releases her jaw, trailing his fingertips down to the zipper of her jacket, drawn up as high as it could go. “Let’s see what we’re working with, huh Gil?”

Gil lifts his head, but Rey’s relief is short lived when he draws her neck back against his shoulder, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat. Gil’s answer to Seff is a snicker off-putting in its boyishness, like the two of them are children with a new toy.

Unhurriedly, Seff unzips Rey’s jacket, revealing her braless chest covered only by the thin material of her tank top. Against her will, as soon as the cold rain batters her skin, her nipples spring to attention.

Seff’s eyes flash and he licks his lips hungrily, exactly like the dog Rey initially thought he was. Except Kaydel isn’t the juicy steak.

Rey is.

“Look at that. You want us, don’t you? Dirty slut.”

She can feel Gil’s burgeoning hardness poking at her ass as he trails the hand on her stomach up towards her stiffening nipples. Panic floods her senses, reality sinking in, and she struggles the hardest she ever has. She starts to scream, but Gil's hand is a more than adequate buffer and the sound is muffled. No one will hear it. No one will come. 

_This is happening_ , she thinks. _This is happening and I am too weak to stop it._

Numb, her eyes slip closed and all the fight leaves her body. She sags like a rag doll in Gil’s arms, awaiting the inevitable.

His hand closes over one of her breasts. Tears leak from beneath Rey's eyelids, sliding over her cheeks and mingling with the rain.

Seff leers, his face shadowed. "Yeah, you like that? You're such a—"

A rough growl emanates from the surrounding darkness, so animalistic in nature that for a second Rey thinks a wolf has somehow found its way into town. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut, certain that this is another one of Gil and Seff’s cronies come to have some fun.

But instead of raucous laughter, Rey hears two sharp grunts of pain, one right after the other. Her eyes shoot open as Gil drops her and she falls to the ground. 

“You can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”

She looks up to find Benjamin immobile over the bodies of Gil and Seff. The relief she feels is overwhelming, a flood through all five of her senses.

Her nostrils flare as she registers what he said. “Do you think I asked for this?”

“Get on my bike.” Benjamin steps over the bodies and into the circle of light.

She scrambles backwards, the rough stone of the alley hurting her hands.

Benjamin looks utterly _feral_. It’s the only word Rey can think of to describe the sheer ferocity coloring his features. His amber eyes are wild, half-crazed, his dark hair sticking up at odd angles and his large fists clenching and unclenching an irregular rhythm. In the harsh light of the street lamp, his scar looks even more imposing. 

He is terrifying, but...she's not afraid.

"Okay." Shakily, she climbs to her feet.

Like a zombie, she heads to the street corner where she can just make out the intimidating shape of Benjamin’s _Starkiller_. She straddles the seat and in flash, Benjamin’s behind her, his arms cocooning her in leather as he reaches for the handles. Her vision tints black as he gently drops his helmet over her head and kicks the engine into gear.

Thunder rolls across the sky as he steers into the street, speeding her away from another awful memory. She grips his biceps for support as he accelerates, the hard muscles trembling under her touch.

“Did you kill them?” Rey didn't mean to give voice to her thoughts. But she’s sure he won’t be able to hear her, so quietly did she ask, with her words muted more by the helmet and the rain.

He hears her anyway.

“No.” Benjamin's hold on the handlebars tightens as lightning flashes. “But I wanted to.”

The thunderstorm descends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one day I will post a chapter on the actual date I say I'm going to post and not at 12 am the next day.
> 
> Chapter Description: Rey goes to Port Angeles with Kaydel, Jess, Gil, and Seff. She leaves because the boys make her uncomfortable and she stumbles upon a person named Bastet who gives her a bunch of cryptic messages. Seff and Gil corner her in an alley and attempt assault her, but Ben intervenes. He takes her away on his motorcycle. 
> 
> ***PLEASE remember that this story is all told from Rey's point of view and she, like every human being, is a narrator with her own biases based on her life experiences. Assault is NEVER the victim's fault and NOTHING anyone does warrants assault of any kind. R*PE IS CAUSED BY R*PISTS.***
> 
> [Keep up with my update schedule](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/updates).
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	12. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent thirty minutes trying to figure out if vampires could bleed before I decided fuck it, my fic, my rules.

Benjamin’s motorcycle roars between her legs, the engine working at full capacity. 

The two of them zoom down the winding streets of Port Angeles, small shuttered houses giving way to towering pines as they leave the tiny town in dust. _Starkiller_ ’s powerful wheels spin at breakneck speed, carrying them over the wet concrete so fast, Rey swears they're flying. Above them, the sky opens wide its angry maw, the clouds darker than the backdrop of night, the rain pelting down in spikes that stab the skin on her knuckles. She’s drenched, her clothes heavy with water, the strands of hair peeking out from under Benjamin’s helmet soaked from brown to black.

In her jacket pocket, her phone buzzes— Jess or Kaydel calling to see where she is. Without looking, she switches the device off. She doesn’t want to think about them, doesn’t want to have to answer questions about Gil and Seff.

Rey’s grip on Benjamin’s arm loosens when she leans forward, her thighs clenching around the leather seat as she balances herself, watching in wonder as the pavement is devoured by _Starkiller’_ s front wheel.

 _This_ is the closest she's gotten to the freedom she so desperately craves. 

Her treks in the desert, the hike to the meadow where she met Benjamin, the countless fights back in Phoenix…it all pales in comparison to riding _Starkiller._ Her mind is empty of everything but the humming of the mighty machine and the whirling wind.

A nonsensical scream of delight rises in her chest. She itches to rip off the helmet and stand, flinging her arms out and letting the wind whip her cheeks red. Letting the wind carry away any thought she could have, tearing to shreds the tapestry of painful memories her life consists of, leaving her fresh, and bright, and _clean_.

As she’s preparing to do just that, Benjamin swerves abruptly, veering off the road and into the forest. Twigs snap under the weight of his bike and pieces of damp underbrush slap wetly against the metal body. He skids to a stop in a woodsy clearing not unlike the one from her dream, _Starkiller_ ’s tires churning up mud as they grind to a halt.

Lightning strikes with a clap of thunder, revealing that Benjamin’s hands have disappeared from the handlebars. Rey starts, looking around for him.

She slides from the bike, slipping off the helmet and placing it carefully on the seat. “Benjamin?”

The same menacing growl from the alley, another flash of lightning, and then the creaking sound of wood splintering. She spins, immediately on guard, sneakers squelching in the mud.

She can’t see more than the faint outline of him, the rain in her face and the light of the full moon weakened by the mat of interwoven tree branches above their heads. She shakes the water from her eyes, sucking in a breath when she can see him more clearly.

He’s _pummeling_ the trunk of the nearest tree, his fists shredding the bark as if it were paper while he snarls from somewhere deep in his chest. And yet...she still feels no fear.

What's wrong with her? Is she this broken? No more self-preservation? No more flight or fight? No more healthy fear? Anyone else would be trembling with fright, shaken from the experience in the alley.

But Rey is calm.

“Benjamin?” She says, softly, uncertainly.

He doesn’t seem to hear her, the rhythmic _thwack_ of bone hitting bark resounding around the clearing like gunshots. Despite his helplessness in the face of whatever he’s feeling, there’s a rigid set to his broad shoulders that lets her know Benjamin is still very much _in control._

A part of her wants to see him lose that ironclad grip, wants to see him _break_.

Rey takes a tentative step in his direction.

“Benjamin?” She calls, stronger. “Ben!”

Once again displaying her incredible lack of self-preservation, she reaches up and places a hand on the worn leather covering one of his shoulders.

He freezes.

“Calm down,” She whispers. The words are drowned out by the storm raging around them, but he heard her. Rey _feels_ it.

She doesn’t know how long they stay like that, Benjamin hunched in front of the ruined tree trunk, Rey on her tiptoes with a hand on his shoulder, but however much time passes isn’t enough.

He pulls himself out of whatever haze he was in and moves away, her hand falling and landing lonely at her side.

Thunder rolls.

She turns to find he's placed as much distance between them as possible. Several feet of forest floor, as well as _Starkiller,_ act as an uncrossable barrier.

It feels like a chasm.

“You’re bleeding.”

Rey wishes she could see his face. She wouldn’t be able to tell what he’s thinking, but at least it would provide more clarity than the uncaring tone his voice always possesses. She glances down, idly noticing that she’s ripped a hole in the knee of her jeans, revealing bloodied skin.

“I’m fine.” The cut is shallow. It doesn't even sting.

“Did _they_ do that to you?” Benjamin hisses.

 _Why would you care?_ He’s saved her three times, but she can only assume it’s because of some savior complex. Not from anything deeper. He'd told her she _didn’t matter_ , for fuck’s sake. And, since saving her life, he's wanted nothing to do with her. 

“Would it matter if they had?”

“Yes.” Benjamin’s response comes on the heels of her question.

"I must have scraped it when I fell. " She pauses. “Why would it matter if they had done it?”

Silence except for the wind howling through the trees. The rain picks up, the water battering against her skin with unpleasant intensity. Droplets weigh on her eyelids, clumping her lashes together and forcing her to squint. Benjamin is a dark shape across from her, the eye of the storm.

The eye of _her_ storm.

Lightning’s jagged finger touches Earth once more, alarmingly close. For an instant, shocking white light brightens the clearing, exposing the murky red river that seeps from Benjamin’s fists to the forest floor.

She gasps and rushes to his side. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

Wordlessly, he shies away from her, but Rey is nothing if not persistent. She reaches for his hands. “Let me see. I know a thing or two about bloody—”

His knuckles are smooth, the skin unmarred.

She frowns. “I saw—” She glances up at him, straining to see his eyes through the veil of dim light and his wet curtain of black hair. “You were bleeding.”

He removes himself from her grip and slinks into the trees. “A trick of the light.”

“Don’t lie to me, Benjamin.”

“Why not?”

She has no answer. Or, at least, no answer she wants to give voice to. 

“You lied to me at the hospital too. You said I would see you tomorrow. But you weren’t at school. None of you were.” Slowly, she pivots in a circle, searching for him within the trees. “You weren’t at school today either. Where were you?”

He acts as if she hadn’t spoken. “What were you doing in that alley?”

Her hand flies to the crystal resting underneath her tank top in the valley of her breasts. Quickly, she zips up her jacket. She's still not sure if she'd dreamed up Bastet, despite the proof hanging around her neck. “Exploring.”

“You went exploring in a city you didn’t know? At night?”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, I would hardly call Port Angeles a _city_ …”

“Do you know how absolutely idiotic that was?” The harsh sound comes from somewhere to her left and her feet sink a little deeper in the mud as she follows the noise.

She bristles. “I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” Benjamin’s in front of her suddenly, black leather the only thing she sees. His scent is dizzying as usual, the aroma triggering memories of her dream. It causes a deep flush to spread across her cheeks. Despite the cold rain, she's unbearably hot. She swallows as he looms over her. “Because, by my count, I’ve saved you from a painful death three times.”

The low, fatal baritone of his voice halts her breathing.

“You didn’t run from the bear.” Benjamin advances, his muscular body pressing into her personal space. “You didn’t move out of the truck’s path. And tonight…You stopped fighting.” The hard edge of _Starkiller_ hits her lower back. She’s cornered, nothing to do except look up into the bottomless pits of his eyes.

They’ve stepped into a weak patch of moonlight and now she can see the amber clearly, burning with barely contained fire. Rey swallows thickly.

He scrutinizes her face, expression pulling his scar taut. Under his gaze, she is a rare specimen and he a scientist, impatient to uncover her secrets. “Why is it you have no desire to live?”

She hardens, lifting her chin. “I have a desire to live.”

Benjamin watches her, the full moon hanging ominously above their heads, the same stark white as the crystal hidden beneath her clothing. Rey wants the comfort of the stone between her fingers, but she doesn’t even twitch, his icy stare pinning her motionless against _Starkiller_.

A trickle of blood oozes from her wound.

His attention snaps to her knee and she will forever be grateful to the moon for it gives her enough light to glimpse what she needs to see: red ringing his eyes and a flash of fang as he puts his back to her.

There comes a time in everyone’s life when the world as they know it ceases to exist. For Rey, now is that time.

Everything comes crashing down. A peculiar buzzing starts at the base of her skull, her fingers and toes go numb, her mouth dries up. 

She had known, deep down, that this was the truth as soon as the search results had scrolled across her screen. She had felt it in the marrow of her bones. Maybe she had even known it on some level when she’d come across him in the meadow, when she’d seen him and his siblings in the cafeteria. But even though her hindbrain had known it, her functioning mind had not let herself believe it until now, not even after the incident with the truck. Not even when she’d told Bastet what she suspected.

But now, watching his body quiver as he fights to keep himself restrained, she believes.

Benjamin is not human. _Benjamin Solo is not human._

She just has to get him to admit it.

Rey tries to make her voice sound as unthreatening as possible. “I was wrong when I thought you and your family were on meth.”

He glances at her over the peak of his shoulder. “Oh, were you?”

She ignores his comment. “Don’t you want to hear my other theories?”

He turns fully back to her now, though he keeps his distance.

She wishes he wouldn’t. She wishes he would.

He raises a dark eyebrow.

Rey takes a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._ “I thought, initially, you’d been bitten by a radioactive insect. Like a spider. Or that maybe you were bionic.”

He scoffs.

She can’t help herself. She smiles. “I know, it’s ridiculous.” The smile slides off her face as quickly as it appeared, her voice lowering. “But I’ve figured it out. I know what you are, Benjamin.”

He crosses his arms, the muscles straining against the leather.

“You’re pale,” she battles the growing blush, “incredibly beautiful, you can move faster than is humanly possible, you have impossible strength, your hands healed themselves in a matter of seconds…” She straightens, gaze fixed on his mouth. “And I saw the way you reacted to my blood just now.”

Nothing happens. Everything happens. One second Benjamin’s across from her, the next he’s got her crowded up against the trunk of the tree he ruined, his arms braced on either side of her head. “Say it.”

Rey shivers at the deadly intent in his voice, but she doesn’t back down. She stares directly at him when she whispers, “ _Vampire_.”

Lightning splits the sky, fiery silver cutting the fabric of space in two. The lightning is there in Benjamin’s eyes as well. Everyone was right when they said he was dangerous, she knows that now, can see it in the hard cut of his shapely mouth, in the ferocity that lurks behind the mask of humanity he’s so carefully constructed. That mask is gone and the look on Benjamin’s face is one that belongs in the pages of a Stephen King novel, in the parts of the ocean light will never touch.

He doesn’t confirm her theory. But he doesn’t need to.

He presses closer, her jacket scraping off more flakes of bark as she shifts. His eyes flash— a dare. “Are you afraid?”

All she can see is him. He’s the closest he’s ever been, her senses engulfed by the feeling of his body centimeters away from hers, her heart so fast it may leap from her chest.

And she is still not afraid.

Her lips part. He tracks the movement.

“No,” she breathes.

Pride tinges his features briefly, before it’s replaced by something akin to disappointment. “Stupid girl,” he mutters, so near she can feel his sweet-smelling breath waft across the planes of her cheeks. “I could have torn those men apart.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“There are rules, Rey.” Benjamin grins, but the gesture lacks mirth. “How do you think we have lived in secret for so long?” He tilts his head, darkly calculating. “You wouldn’t have cared if I had killed them.”

Something dark unfurls within her. She finds that she wouldn’t have. She nods, ever so slowly.

He exhales breath he doesn’t need. “What _are_ you, Rey Johnson?”

Her mouth tightens. “According to you, nothing.”

He stiffens, regret swimming through the currents of his face like minnows in summer stream. As if in slow motion, he swipes his knuckles over one of her cheekbones, the touch feather-light, but no less electrifying in its intensity.

Rey gasps, soft and high. The sound seems to feed some hunger within Benjamin, and he slumps forward, a marionette with his strings cut, like he's been freed from some binding. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, and for the first time she wonders if her scent affects him as much as his affects her.

“Rey, you’re not nothing.” He sighs, his nose bumping the delicate place behind her earlobe. “You’re _everything_.”

Her breath hitches, his scorching touch liquefying her lower half. His skin is cold, like ice, like the snow she’s never seen, but still she arches against him, her eyes shutting of their own accord. “Benjamin, I—”

“You smell like— _Fuck_ , sweetheart.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, tilting her jaw up so he could have better access to her neck. He rains down kisses and she sighs in pleasure, content so pure it’s heavenly rushing through her veins, this is how it was always meant to be—

Something sharp grazes her pulse point.

She and Benjamin freeze as one.

Then, he’s leaving her arms empty, a blur of black as he darts across the clearing. Her limbs feels like mush, the tree the only thing keeping her from sliding to the ground.

“Why did you stop?”

He’s reduced himself to an outline. “We can’t, Rey.”

“Why not?”

Snarling rumbles from the shadows. “Why not? _Why not_?”

His hand shoots out, encompassing her own in its entirety and yanking her from the tree. She stumbles, but he catches her, pulling her body flush to the solid wall of him, her back to his chest. A large hand grips her jaw fiercely, wrenching her head to the side and exposing her jugular. Four needle-like points press against the skin and her body turns to stone.

“Feel that, sweetheart? _That_ ’s why we can’t. I’ll kill you, Rey. Do you understand that?”

One of her hands creeps up and finds the back of his neck, fingers twisting in the dark curls at his nape. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me.”

Quicker than light, he drops her and steps away. “Get on my bike, I’m taking you back.”

“What, no—”

“Rey. Get. On. My. Bike.” His order is hardly understandable, little more than a growl. 

Relenting, she seats herself back on _Starkiller._

Everything will be okay now. Everything will be okay because now she knows he wants her.

☾

Maybe if Rey was governed by her head and not her heart, she would have had the common sense to berate Benjamin with questions. 

To not get back on the bike. To force him to admit his nature. Instead, her mind is blank, save for the world-altering realization that he's attracted to her. _You’re everything_ , he’d said. 

Spiriting her back to Port Angeles, encircling her in arms of icy steel, is a _vampire_. Rey can still feel the indent his fangs made in her neck. Her fingers creep up to that spot but are met with the barrier of his helmet. She belatedly remembers Benjamin shoved it back on her head before they left the clearing. 

He is in control. If he wished, he could stop right now and sink his teeth into her neck. He could drain her of blood and leave her in a ditch so deep no one would ever find her body. 

He could kill her.

_You’re everything._

But he won’t. He won’t because he's the one who’d stopped when things had become heated. He's the one who’d rescued her three times. If Benjamin wanted her dead, he could have let the bear tear her to shreds or the van crush her or Gil and Seff finish what they started. He’s enduring her current nearness because it’s the only way to get her back to Jess and Kaydel. 

Benjamin has kept her alive. 

Because of this newfound attraction?

_“You smell like- Fuck, sweetheart.”_

She shifts, a telltale warmth rising in her lower abdomen as the memory of his rough whisper floods through her. Can vampires get hard? He’s so close...all she has to do is scoot back a couple inches and she could find out.

But Benjamin’s tearing down a road she recognizes as the one on which Claire’s Boutique is located.

That’s strange. “How did you know—” She starts, but he’s slowed to a stop and killed _Starkiller_ ’s motor. 

He dismounts, holding out a hand to help her down. The thunderstorm has tamed, murky clouds giving way to the light of the full moon. It, plus the yellow light of the streetlamp, lets her see his face with more clarity than she has been able to this whole night.

He looks wrecked, his hair a tangled raven mess, his skin white as paper. Black circles frame his haunting amber eyes, plunging them into his skull. He looks like a walking corpse. Rey laughs internally at the irony. 

When she doesn't move, he pointedly looks at his hand. In return, Rey rolls her eyes, swinging her legs over the side and hopping down without his help. With a shrug of his great shoulders, Benjamin mounts _Starkiller_.

The thought of him leaving, without even turning to look back at her, makes something unpleasant clog her throat. 

“I could tell someone!” She shouts as he reaches for the ignition. Rey would never do that, but it’s just shocking enough that he might stay. Or, better yet, take her with him. “What you are.”

He revs the engine, sliding on his helmet. “Go ahead. No one would ever believe you.”

“So, you’re just going to leave? Drop me off and pretend nothing happened? Without even a 'see you later'?”

Rey doesn’t need to see his face to know a cocky smirk has spread over his features. “See you later, sweetheart.”

He puts a giant booted foot on the gas, and then Benjamin and his bike disappear into the shadowed distance and she is alone, standing under a streetlamp in the rain like it’s 1935 and she’s a Hollywood starlet. Except instead of a lone tear sliding down her cheek as he leaves, Rey feels the supreme urge to hurl something heavy after him.

It wouldn’t do anything. Because Benjamin is a vampire, so he’s virtually indestructible. A real-life vampire.

Holy shit.

A fucking _vampire_.

She would have stood there indefinitely, rooted to the ground as her brain tried to process the night, if Jess and Kaydel hadn’t come sprinting down the sidewalk. 

“Rey!” They yell, tearing her from her stupor. The two skid to a stop, rainwater splashing around their matching rain boots. 

“Where have you been? We’ve been calling! Where is Gil? And Seff? We sent them to get you, like, an hour ago.”

She answers Kaydel’s questions with lies. “I didn’t see them. I was exploring and turned my phone off.” 

“What happened to your knee?”

Rey forgot about that. She opens her mouth, prepared to respond with another half-baked lie, but Kaydel huffs and raises a hand. “It doesn’t matter. We need to go home _now_.”

Rey frowns at the urgency in the cheerleader’s tone. “Why? What happened?”

“Keyan’s parents called.” Jess’ voice is so quiet, Rey has to strain to hear it against the rainfall. “A nurse went to check on him and he wasn’t in his room. They asked if he was with us.”

She doesn’t understand. “Well, he’s not. Where is he now?”

Jess’ lower lip trembles. “No one knows. He’s just…”

“Gone.” Kaydel finishes, somber as a tomb. “Keyan’s gone, Rey, and nobody can find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampires are real and they are horny.
> 
> [Keep up with my update schedule](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/updates). 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	13. Demons and Other Wild Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big brain shit I was on when I decided to write this AU because WE ARE GETTING ANOTHER BOOK! MIDNIGHT SUN BITCHES! I'm actually super excited.
> 
> **TW: LIGHT CHOKING. BOTH REY AND BEN ARE INTO IT.**

The instant she’s over the threshold of Maz’s house, she bounds upstairs, ignoring Beebee’s insistent mewing. 

It’s late, so she tries to be quiet, knowing Maz is most likely asleep. The old woman wakes with the sun, works all day in her yard, and goes to sleep as soon as night falls. 

“Shh, Beebee.” She hisses, opening the door to her room slowly to avoid its creaking. She steps inside, gently shutting the door behind her, and flicks on the light. Rey tosses the Claire’s Boutique bag on her bed, shedding her wet jacket and draping it over the radiator. She hadn’t asked what Jess and Kaydel had picked out for her and they hadn’t told her, all of them preoccupied with Keyan’s mysterious disappearance. 

Rey slips out into the dark hallway, feeling the sides of the wall as she heads towards the linen closet. She seizes a towel that looks older than the rest, discolored and ratty. 

Inside her room once more, she towels off her hair and strips, throwing her wet clothes into the hamper. She grabs underwear and a t-shirt and slips them on, happy to not be wearing wet clothes anymore. She sits at her desk and scrubs off the dried blood caked to her knee, relieved to find the wound is no longer flowing.

Now that Rey has taken care of the basics, she can concentrate on more pressing matters. All thoughts of Ben and vampirism had flown from her head as soon as she’d heard the news about Keyan. The skinny kid was annoying, but Rey wouldn’t want anything to happen to him. The thought of him, delirious with a fever no one could cure, stumbling around in the middle of the night during a storm was enough to make her chest tight with worry. 

Forks is an insignificant town, with an uncommonly low crime rate, but Keyan could fall and hit his head, or go into the woods and tempt a bear, like she had.

She has a lead, though. Rey had not made Jess and Kaydel aware of it, fearing that she would get their hopes up. But she has a lead. Digging around in the pocket of her jacket, she pulls out her phone and flips it open. She only has six contacts: Maz, Marina Weiss, Kaydel, Jess, Keyan, and Poe. With a determined set to her mouth, she clicks on the mechanic’s name, jabbing the call button with an impatient finger. 

She taps her fingers on the desk, waiting with bated breath. It rings so long, she thinks it will go to voicemail, but—

“Hello?” Poe’s voice is gruff, like he didn’t look at the caller ID before he answered.

“Poe? It’s Rey.”

“Just Rey!” He brightens, but not to his usual wattage. A hard edge undercuts his words, a tone she’d only seen Poe use that day at the beach with Finn. “What’s up?”

She cuts straight to the point. “Keyan’s missing.”

Silence.

“No one can find him.”

Breath whooshes out of Poe in one long swoop. “What do you mean no one can find him?”

“I mean no one can find him! The nurse went into his room with his dinner and he was just gone, Poe. Did he say something to you? When you went to see him?” Rey fiddles with a pen, needing to move her hands.

“No, no. He didn’t.”

“Maybe he felt better. You said you knew what was wrong with him, right?”

Poe sighs. “About that. We were wrong, Rey.”

Her grasp on the pen loosens, and the object drops to the ground. “You were wrong?”

“Yeah, we made a mistake. He doesn’t have what we thought he did.”

She stands, her desk chair sliding back, one wheel rolling over Beebee’s paws. He gives a surprised yelp, and darts into the safe space under her bed, his reflective eyes gleaming with hurt. She mouths, ‘Sorry,’ before turning her attention back to the phone. “Well, what does he have then?” 

“I-I don’t know, Rey.”

“And he didn’t say anything weird to you? Or something that could hint he was running away?” She demands, gnawing on a wet lock of hair, a terrible habit she’d kicked when she was a kid. Or, more accurately, Plutt had kicked out of her. He’s managed to rid her of it for the most part. It always came back when she was nervous beyond imagining. 

Static crackles. “He didn’t say anything. I don’t know where he is. I’m sorry.” The sound fades, and Rey almost loses the end of his sentence. 

She checks her signal. Four bars. “Where are you? You’re breaking up.”

“Am I? I should probably go, anyway. Talk to you later, Rey.” He cuts in and out, leaving Rey to piece together the fragments of his speech. “Oh, don’t come down to the shop tomorrow. Actually, don’t come for a while.”

Her blood turns to ice. “Are you guys shutting down?”

“What— no, no. Not for a while anyway. Just— there are some internal issues going on.”

“Oh.”

“Not that we don’t want to see you, we— ah, there’s some shit we gotta deal with.”

Her voice is flat, lifeless. “Okay.”

“Rey—”

“Bye, Poe.” She snaps her phone shut, tossing it on her desk and throwing herself face down on her bed.

After a beat, a pair of paws knead her hip and she rolls over on her back. Beebee stretches, clambering onto her chest and curling into a ball. His gigantic eyes blink at her sleepily and his orange tail flicks before it wraps around his body. 

“Do you think Poe was lying?” She whispers, scratching him under the chin in the brutal way she knows he likes. “Maybe he just didn’t want me coming to the shop anymore.”

Beebee, being a cat, has no answers for her.

Rey sighs and picks her usual course of action when faced with something unpleasant: she locks it in a box and throws away the key.

Ignoring the swirling tornado of her anxieties and the fact that the world has become a stranger, Rey shuts her eyes, welcoming sleep. 

☾

Tonight, for the first time since the meadow, she doesn’t dream of Benjamin.

Rey finds herself in a snowy field, the white so bright it stings her eyes. Surrounding her on all sides, their branches bowing under the snowfall, are the familiar trees native to the Olympic Peninsula. Even though she doesn’t wear a coat, Rey is not cold.

She is also not alone.

A wordless scream pierces the frigid air and Rey whips around, auburn hair fanning out behind her.

It’s a child. 

A little girl, no more than ten. Brunette, with freckles dusting her nose. For a second, Rey thinks it’s her younger self. But as the child nears, her small tan hands outstretched, Rey notices the startling divergence between the girl and herself. 

The eyes. 

They’re blood red.

The child continues to wail, running towards Rey in the distorted slow motion only present in dreams, her booted feet scrambling for purchase in the snow. Vivid anguish marks the child’s delicate features, and Rey startles as tears drip from her eyes. 

She wants to help, wants to stop whatever is causing the screaming, but she can’t. She’s frozen in place. 

Her own arms reflect the child’s, reaching for the little girl with blind desperation. They run towards each other, but they never meet. 

When Rey wakes, that dream, along with all the others that had filtered through her sleeping mind, will fade into the landscape of her unconscious. 

☾

Thursday and Friday blur together. 

Keyan is nowhere to be found, but the town continues to look for him. His parents organize a zillion search parties, to no avail. There are no clues, no trail of breadcrumbs to follow. Keyan has simply vanished. 

Jess and a few others hang missing posters on the bulletin outside the guidance counselor’s office. One catches Rey’s eye, and she stops in the middle of the hallway, the other students continuing on in an endless stream of denim and flannel. 

Jess had used his school picture from last year, so he has to be sixteen in the photo. His customary graphic tees are absent, in their place a crisp white button-down, monogrammed on the right breast. His spiky hair is combed and slicked to his scalp with way too much gel. The style of his pale blonde hair, accompanied by his overenthusiastic grin, makes him look twelve. Rey steps closer to the photo, a wave of unbearable sadness washing over her. Someone who loves Keyan very much had made him dress up.

He has people who loves him, and he’s missing. 

It’s not fair. _Where are you, Keyan?_

She doesn’t know why she expected the Organas to show up, but she’s still disappointed when their lunch table remains empty and no brooding leather-draped giant occupies the chair next to her in English. 

A part of her, bigger than she’d like to admit, worries that they’ve left for good. She’s found them out. She’s human, and she knows. That _has_ to go against the rules Ben mentioned. 

Then, on Friday, after school has let out, she catches sight of the sheriff’s car stalling in a corner of the lot. _Have they found Keyan?_ Her heart in her throat, she starts to jog over when she sees Ben’s dad cuffing Gil Thorne and shoving him in the backseat beside a whimpering Seff Hellin. 

“Someone found coke in their locker and tipped the coach off.” Rey jumps, finding Kaydel has crept up on her. “ _Cocaine_. Can you believe it?” The blonde’s sleek ponytail swishes as she gives a disapproving shake of her head. “Guess I’ll never find out if the rumors were true.” A crease forms between her trimmed brows. “ _Ugh_ , we’re gonna have to find new dates. And after we’ve already bought our dresses…”

Kaydel’s fretting fades into the background as Rey stares after the receding squad car, the shape of two thick heads present in the rear window. Her fists clench. _Enjoy jail, motherfuckers._

☾

Saturday comes dragging its feet. 

After breakfast, for the first time, Rey checks her phone and prays for a message from Jess or Kaydel. 

No such luck.

She sighs in discontent, jamming the phone back in her pants pocket with more force than needed. She rises from Maz’s kitchen table, dirty dishes in hand, and sets them in the sink. With the air of muscle memory, she rolls up her sleeves and scrubs them thoroughly, despite Maz’s dishwasher being empty. As she cleans, she glances out the window to find her foster mother already hard at work.

Maz’s garden is really more of an arboretum. Large and sprawling, it takes up the entirety of the spacious backyard and has so many varieties of plants that Rey could stroll through their crooked rows, touching each individually, and still not remember all their names and how to take care of them. Maz’s garden is lush, the fertile greenery suited more for spring than the encroaching tendrils of winter. Maz has the gift of a green thumb, that’s clear, but she also cares for her plants deeply, as if they were people.

Not for the first time, Rey wonders about Maz’s husband. There are no photographs, and other than mentioning that the truck was his, Maz never talks about him. _She must have loved him very much,_ Rey muses, watching Maz pick caterpillars off the leaves and carry the creatures into the woods. _To need something to consume her after he died._

Maybe Rey herself is a part of that need. 

She dries her hands, passing through the living room on her way out the back door. Curled in the faded corduroy armchair, Beebee wakes as she walks by, stretching with a jawbreaking yawn before hopping down and settling into his customary role as her shadow.

The screen door bangs shut behind her, alerting Maz to her presence. “Good morning, child. Any news?”

Everyone in Forks knows that Keyan’s missing. Maz had sent his parents a crate of her best tomatoes. She takes part in as many search parties as she can, despite complaining that her knees weren’t what they used to be. “No, nothing yet.”

The corners of Maz’s mouth turn down. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

Jess worried that Keyan would die in the hospital, and Rey had assured her that he would be okay. Now, she’s not so sure.

She nods shakily, unable to vocalize for words have become lodged in the back of her throat. Maz understands anyway and pats Rey’s shoulder, crouching to pluck an errant weed. Beebee seizes the opportunity and stops rubbing himself against Rey’s pant leg, leaping onto Maz’s shoulders and draping himself there like a ragged orange stole.

She leaves them be, Maz whistling cheerfully as she strokes a wrinkled hand through Beebee’s thick fur, and Rey ducks into the garage. She beelines for the box she’d dropped off earlier in the week and hadn’t since explored. 

As she bends down, the crystal necklace slips out from under her neckline. Rey had kept Bastet’s gift hidden from prying eyes, for no other reason than that’s what felt right. She tucks the pearly crystal back within the confines of her shirt, thoughts of Bastet curling around her head like smoke.

_It is rightfully yours. You will require it._

She has no idea what that meant, or the meaning of Bastet’s other cryptic messages. Frowning, she swats those worries aside, anxious to lose herself in the simplicity of machines. Machines don’t have mysterious secrets, don’t get sick and disappear, don’t one day reveal that they are supernatural creatures.

Inside the cardboard box, the brand new battery and ignition coil gleam and Rey’s eight years old again, discovering the simple pleasure of taking things apart only to put them back together. She picks up the box and places it on the small worktable, which was also the property of Maz’s dead husband. From what she could piece together, he had been a handyman. His toolbox holds every type of gear, some even Rey couldn’t identify. 

There’s a boombox under the worktable. It’s covered by a thin layer of dust, but when she turns it on, it crackles to life, blaring Forks’ alt-rock station.

 _Ah_ , Rey smiles. _We have more than a love for cars in common, Mr. Kanata._

She takes a second. The strumming of the guitar stirs some distant memory…

The song is familiar, like shrugging on an old hoodie. Her grin grows wider as she pops the hood of the truck, a soft hum beginning in her chest.

The thing about the music of your childhood is that you never really forget it. Even if you haven’t heard a particular song in years. 

Rey’s heart remembers the words, the tune, and by the first chorus, she’s full-out belting as she works at removing the corroded battery. 

“You’re pitchy.”

If Rey’s proud of any aspect of her personality, it’s her ability to stay calm and collected in the face of danger. Right now, however, that talent is nonexistent. 

She screams. A shrill, _girly_ scream, the wrench falling as her hands fly to nest over her heart.

The tool doesn’t hit the ground. Faster than lightning, a recognizable hand snaps out and catches it a hair’s breadth away from the concrete. 

Benjamin gives the wrench to her, careful for their skin not to touch. In her hand, the wrench grows, returning to its normal size. In his grasp, the tool could have been an accessory for a Barbie doll.

“ _Jesus_ , you scared me.” She says, breathless. She drinks in the sight of him, noticing that his hair is once again meticulously groomed and the dark circles under his eyes have disappeared. 

The fact that Benjamin Solo, vampire, is in Maz’s garage sinks in. “What are you doing here?”

Proving that he hasn’t kicked his annoying habit of ignoring her direct questions, he jerks his head toward the open door. “Come with me.”

She crosses her arms. “Why? So you can kill me?”

He looks vaguely exasperated. “Rey, if I wanted you dead, you would already be dead.”

Right. 

She sets the wrench down on the table and turns off the boombox, glancing mournfully at the shiny new parts as she follows Benjamin from the garage. He leads her into the woods, embarking on nearly the same path she’d taken the day they’d met. Instinctively, she knows where he’s taking her.

The meadow.

She hasn’t been back since she almost died. She was afraid Benjamin would be there. Afraid he wouldn’t be.

Rey quickens, trying to close the considerable space he’s put between them, but somehow the distance never changes. He is always out of reach. Grumbling, she stays in the place he’s put her, her arms remaining crossed.

They walk in complete silence, save for the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees and the twigs snapping under their feet. She has no concept of how far away the meadow is, her first and only hike a desperate scramble for freedom more than a sightseeing venture. 

She’s panting, red-faced, when they emerge from under the tree cover, Benjamin as pale and stoic as ever.

Pristine as she’d left it, the meadow radiates the same peace she'd felt those few weeks ago. She doesn’t know why she’d thought it would look different. Perhaps because Benjamin had upended her world, she’d figured that the physical environment would show some evidence of change.

The contrast between Benjamin and the sparkling meadow is almost comical. Here he is, a mountain of a man, dressed in the blackest of black, death himself wreathed by the vivid hues of life. Once more, the irony brings her sheer delight. 

Wildflowers flatten under the heels of his boots as he steps into the sunshine.

The _sun_ shine.

“How?” She splutters, unthinking. 

He turns from his ruminating perusal of the alpine horizon, his brow furrowed. “How what?”

She indicates the golden rays that cling to his outline like a halo. “The sun! Isn’t it supposed to hurt people like you?”

His chuckle is throaty and her breath catches at the low sound. “People like me... Yes.”

“But you’re standing in it!” Her eyes bulge as the events of the beach come rushing back to her in technicolor. “And so do your siblings!”

“We have our ways.” Benjamin frowns. “How do you know about my siblings?”

She huffs. “Benjamin. C’mon. What better way to hold a cult together than by being a secretive supernatural species?”

He surveys her with something almost like humor. She can’t really tell, though. He’s so hard to read. Sometimes she thinks he might be carved from actual stone. “It’s called a coven.”

She blinks, confused. “What?”

He smirks. “We’re not a cult, Rey. We’re a _coven_.”

“Oh.” She has no idea how to respond to that. It still sounds like a cult. “Cool?”

Endless questions perch on the tip of her tongue. Are you allergic to garlic? Can you turn into a bat? Do any other mythical beings exist? She doesn’t like the idea of the Organas being the only supernatural creatures in the whole world. It seems... lonely.

Benjamin has other plans than giving her the opportunity to voice her questions. He moves further into the meadow, his broad back spanning the length of the sky. She stays where she is, hovering on the line that separates the trees from the field. She wants nothing more than to follow him, but the memory of the distance he’d so rigidly put between them since they’d met haunts her and her feet grow roots. He may be attracted to her, but she has a feeling those fleeting neck kisses were an anomaly. He’s too in control, too tightly-wound.

Rey wishes she could crawl inside his head. She would give anything to know what he’s thinking.

“Why did you bring me here?” She tries to crack a joke, living for the moments when his mask cracks and a particle of emotion seeps through. “If not to kill me?”

By his side, he flexes his fingers, fanning the digits, his tendons protruding. “You said you weren’t afraid.”

Of their own free will, her hands clench and unclench in response. Their bodies speak a language her conscious mind will never understand. “I did.”

He faces her then, his eyes shards of flint. “Ask yourself the most basic question, Rey. _What do we eat?_ ”

Intellectually, she knows the peculiar diet of vampires, but that knowledge had not become a true reality until this moment. “Are you…” Her mouth dries, so she wets her lips. His gaze tracks the swift flick of her tongue. “Do you kill people?”

Bitter and self-deprecating, he replies. “My family and I- I guess you could say we’re vegetarians. We don’t drink from humans, only animals.” 

Scrutinizing his exquisite face, Rey revises her original question. “ _Have_ you killed people?”

His eyes meet hers and within their amber depths, she sees all the demons that Dante dreamed. _What do you think?_ Those eyes say. _What do you think?_

It’s a neon sign that Rey direly needs therapy when she doesn’t go running for the hills. “But you eat animals now.”

He dips his head in such a way, it makes the gesture out of place in the 21st century. It’s endearing as much as it is attractive. A dull throb starts deep in her belly.

She chances a step closer, crossing the boundary. 

His nostrils flare, and he gives her a warning growl. “Rey, I came to impress upon you that you should be afraid. I am not a man. I am a monster.”

She disagrees.

Inching towards him even as he backs away, she too wants to growl when the space between them fails to shrink. “No. You eat animals, you just said.”

His lips twist, his handsome face morphing into something hard and cruel. “Haven’t you ever heard of the scorpion and the frog?”

She shakes her head, eyes glued to his. They circle each other, like rivals, like foes on opposite sides of a war. 

He begins, snide and mocking. “ _Once upon a time_ , a scorpion asked a frog to carry it across a river, since it could not swim. The frog was hesitant, worried that the scorpion would sting him, but the creature assured him that he would not because it would drown them both.” Ben’s voice drops. “However, halfway across the river the scorpion bit the frog and doomed them. As the frog was dying, it asked the scorpion why he had done it.” He cocks his head, his gaze sharpening to the point of a knife. “Do you know what the scorpion said, Rey?”

Again, she shakes her head. 

"'I couldn't help it.'" He leers, animalistic in every sense of the word. "'It’s in my _nature_.'"

She mirrors him, drawing herself up to her full height. “Interesting. Thanks for the history lesson. But you won’t hurt me. You said so yourself, if you wanted me dead, I’d already be dead.”

His jaw tightens so hard she swears she hears a pop. “Did you even listen to the damn story?”

Rey rolls her eyes. Their rotation had brought them close enough for her to reach out and poke him in the chest. “Say what you mean, asshole.”

Ben snarls, the sound growing claws and rending the fabric of the air in two. Quicker than the naked eye could see, he’s wrapped his fingers around her neck, pressing down hard enough for Rey’s vision to blur around the edges. “I _mean_ that I don’t want to see you dead. But make no mistake, little Rey. I do want to kill you.” He leans in, delicately sniffs her temple, and his eyes roll into the back of his head with a rough groan. “You smell like paradise. Like heaven. Your blood _sings_ to me.” That red ring she’d glimpsed in the Port Angeles clearing forms around his eyes and, under the curve of his plush upper lip, she can see his fangs have descended. “It calls to me. Your scent is intoxicating. Killing you would be like sipping the finest wine, devouring the juiciest steak. _Decadent_ .” He bares his teeth, the razor sharp points of his fangs in full glory. “You do not understand how much I crave your blood, Rey. How much I want to _rip you apart_.”

She struggles against his grip, but makes no genuine attempt to escape. “You won’t hurt me, Ben. I know it.”

The crescent moons of his fingernails dig into the hypersensitive skin of her neck, shooting a tingle down her spine, and suddenly, she’s aching, her body clenching painfully around nothing. Rey whimpers. She actually _whimpers_. 

Ben lifts his head from where he’d been snuffling along her cheek, pupils dilating. Mortified, Rey stares into those black pits, once amber, and realizes that he can smell her arousal. He hauls her flush against him, the soft curve of Rey yielding to the iron line of Ben. 

So vampires can get hard. Good to know.

“You sick, _sick_ thing.” He says, wondrous. “Am I turning you on, sweetheart?”

She would nod, but his big hand spans the circumference of her neck, rendering it immobile. She would speak, but his long fingers squeeze her throat closed. She really only has one option.

Rey trails a hand down the hard plane of his stomach, planting her palm over the swell of his cock.

Ben freezes. 

Then, with the super-speed she’s quickly becoming used to, he throws her to the ground, shrinking back and into a near crouch. Vampires don’t need to breathe, and yet Ben’s chest is rising and falling as if he was the one who had someone cut off his airway.

She coughs as air rushes back into her lungs, glancing up at him through watering eyes glazed over with want so potent, it's agonizing. “Stop doing that, stop _stopping_.”

She’s furious. He’s denied her twice. Rey scrambles to her feet, ignoring the black spots that dance across her vision.

Not thinking, she launches herself at Ben, mashing her lips against his as if she’s the one with the strength of ten thousand men.

☾

And, deep in the underbrush, a pair of tawny eyes evaporate into the shadows, having seen everything they needed to see. 

☾

Rey has never kissed anyone.

Kisses were always something forced on her. Boys on the playground, boys in the school hallways, Trent at the pool, they all thought they had a right to her mouth. She has never voluntarily put her lips on somebody else’s.

Nobody but Ben.

Up close, his delicious scent is so strong she can almost taste it. It stokes the flame within her and she presses her lips to his so hard she’s worried she may bruise herself.

He is a statue beneath her touch, an object carved from cold, unflinching marble. And so her kiss, bestowed upon him in a moment of overwhelming want, remains frustratingly chaste. Despite her valiant efforts to stick her tongue down his throat, Ben’s lips are sealed. His arms, unlike hers, are wooden at his sides.

Her desire dies a coward’s death. 

Red from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, she releases him and steps away, her heart a festering wound. She thought Ben wanted her…

Embarrassed to the verge of tears, her sneakers scuffle in the grass. “Sorry, I-” Her throat feels scratchy, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he just had his hands around her neck. She can’t face him, she can never look him in the eye again. Hoping she remembers the trail they took, she turns back the way they’d come.

Icy fingers clamp around her wrist.

Rey stops short. Her lips still tingle from the frigidness of his, echoing in the press of his fingertips to the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. 

Ben doesn’t pull her towards him, he stays put, his fingers a freezing bracelet, her back towards him. She waits with bated breath for him to speak, to choke her again, maybe even to kill her. She has to keep reminding herself that Ben is a lion, and she is nothing but a lamb. 

“That was unbelievably stupid, Rey.”

His voice is wintry, like him, like his skin, and yet, he doesn’t let go. Cautious, Rey pivots on her heel, facing him again and letting her eyes drift up to his inhumanely beautiful face. Emphasis on the inhuman.

His fangs haven’t retracted, the ring of red that forms around his eyes more prominent than she’s ever seen it. His eyes, his lovely amber eyes, have blackened. Ben is unrecognizable, every inch the monster he claims to be, and he has all the power.

Even so, she is not afraid. She'd been afraid of him only when he'd saved her in the alley, in this very meadow. Both times, the animalistic nature that scared her had been directed towards something else. Ben would never turn that ferocity on her, even now with his fangs extended and his eyes red as the blood he consumes, she knows that.

She has no evidence to support her claim. In fact, she has more evidence to support the contrary. Rey can't explain this strange certainty, just like she can't explain why she feels the compelling need to be around him.

“Did you listen to a word I said?” Ben demands through gritted teeth. His grip tightens, but it doesn’t hurt. He touches her like she’s a porcelain doll. Even his choking hadn't hurt. Surprise had cut off her airway, not Ben. 

“I did.”

“And?”

She glares at him, despite the lingering residue of embarrassment. “I don’t believe you’ll hurt me.”

His black eyes flare. “You once told me I had already hurt you.”

She winces, his words ripping open the scar tissue, wounding anew. “You hurt me emotionally.”

He steps into her personal space and for a second, his apathetic mask cracks. The red ring darkens and his fangs lengthen imperceptibly. His left eye twitches, once, before his barriers slam up again. 

Ben looks down at her, dark and unreadable. “I’ve explicitly told you how I long for your blood. If I’ve hurt you emotionally, what makes you think I won’t hurt you physically?”

She gives a tiny movement of her shoulders, less than a shrug. Something urges her to keep her actions small and unthreatening. “I know you won’t hurt me. I know it, Ben.” These are, perhaps, the truest words she’s ever spoken. 

He has nothing to say to that, continuing to look at her impassively. His expression never has betrayed his thoughts before, and it’s not about to start now. 

He’s insufferable. Incomprehensible and utterly insufferable.

She didn’t realize that she still carried the wounds of their initial conversation. He hasn’t given her a real explanation for his harsh words, that apology he’d given when he’d begged her to stay away from Gil, was half-assed at best. 

“You told me I didn’t matter.” She says, accusing. “You told me I was nothing.”

“I also told you that you were everything.”

Seriously? Is this how he apologizes? By covering up an insult with a compliment?

“Ben, you can’t just switch like that-” Hot anger takes over and she sucks in air, keeping the molten waves at bay. “How am I supposed to know the truth?”

“You seem to always know the truth, Rey. Somehow.” Her eyes lock to his, and he shifts his grip just so, until he’s taking her pulse. 

Can he feel its erratic flutter? Does he know that particular rhythm is for him and him alone?

“Why did you kiss me, Rey?” Ben’s voice is crushed velvet and it does something funny to her insides.

“I-” She squirms under the intensity of his gaze. You know why.

“It would be incredibly idiotic of you to be attracted to a vampire.”

She nods, nibbling a flake of dry skin on her bottom lip. “It would.”

He moves closer, though not by choice. More like there's an invisible string connecting the two of them, tugging them together despite all attempts to remain apart. “It would be even more idiotic for me to be attracted to a human I shouldn’t kill.”

“Yes.”

He tilts his head, surveying her with the same look that Finn and Rose had in the cupcake shop, the one that makes her feel like she’s a puzzle that can’t be pieced together. “And yet… I feel it too.”

Her heart picks up speed until all she can hear is the blood rushing to her head. Ben’s fingertips trace the maze of her veins and she knows that he can hear as well as feel her thundering heartbeat. 

For seconds, hours, days, that is the only sound in the quiet meadow.

Bah-bum. Bah-bum. Bah-Bum.

After Port Angeles, she was sure that Ben feels the tenacious heart line that connects them, but when the Organas didn’t show up to school on Thursday and Friday, she’d written it off as her projecting her feelings onto him. 

Now, she feels victorious. He feels it too. She was right.

Bah-Bum. Bah-Bum. Bah-Bum. 

But then- “Why didn’t you kiss me back?” Ben has a strange way of making her unusually vulnerable. If her classmates back in Phoenix could see her now, blushing at the slightest touch from this man, voice barely more than a whisper, they would have laughed until they peed, then kicked her ass into next week. 

Ben releases her wrist and puts distance between them, much to her chagrin. He turns away and if she didn’t know better, she would say he’s ashamed. “I almost killed you in Port Angeles. I almost killed you here. When you…” He closes his eyes and takes a deep heaving breath.

Bah-Bum. Bah-Bum. Bah-Bum. 

When he opens them again, they’ve returned to their normal amber, his fangs nowhere to be seen. If it weren't for the fact he's not currently breathing, he could pass for human. “...it took all of my self control not to snap your neck. If we give in to-” he spits out his next words as if they've left a bad taste in his mouth- "attraction, to the allure of touch, I will kill you, Rey. I won’t be able to help myself.”

Bah-bum. Bah-bum. Bah-bum.

She observes him, her mind whirring at a thousand miles per hour. She can’t win. He won’t risk her life and she won’t be without him. Coming to as good of a solution as there is, she extends her hand towards him. An olive branch. 

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Friends, then?” She glances from her offering to him.

The side of Ben’s mouth twitches. “I thought I made it very clear I don’t want to be your friend.”

Rey wiggles her fingers in what she hopes is an enticing manner. Or maybe she wants that brief twitch to become a full-blown smile. 

She doesn’t succeed on either count. 

His angular face is emotionless and she thinks that he’ll reject her again. But, Ben, unpredictable as always, engulfs her much smaller hand in the icy cage of his own.

“Friends.” He agrees with a brisk nod. 

For the first time in recent memory, an ecstatic grin splits Rey’s face in two. 

☾

This time, as they trudge through the forest, Rey leads, and Ben follows. While she makes a ruckus, fallen leaves crunching under her feet, low-hanging branches slapping against her knees, he trails behind at the same amount of distance he’d established on the hike to the meadow, silent as the dead. If Rey didn’t know better, she would think she was alone.

“So, what does being friends with a vampire look like?” She teases, ducking under a particularly low-hanging branch. 

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had that many friends in my existence. Especially human ones.”

Not life, existence. She hesitates for a nanosecond, a pang of sadness hitting her square in the chest. 

The pause is so brief she doesn't truly stop moving, but he notices anyway, because it’s his nature to notice everything. And maybe he pays as much attention to her as she does to him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” I hadn’t realized how similar we are. “Just hoping to get back before Maz notices I’m gone.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, it’s getting dark and Maz would call her to dinner soon, but it wasn’t the answer he’d asked for either. 

“Ah.” Suddenly, he’s there, blocking her path. There’s a wry twist to his full lips, and he puts his back to her, sinking down until his nape is level with her sternum. “Hop on.”

What? “What?”

He glances at her over the curve of a muscled shoulder. “I thought you wanted to get back before Maz noticed you’re gone?”

Oh. She blinks, realization flooding in. “You want to give me... a piggy-back ride?”

“We’ll be back at Maz’s in no time.”

Rey crosses her arms, biting her lip to stop the threatening giggle. “Didn’t you just say we couldn’t give in to the ‘allure of touch’?”

Ben huffs, a frustrated sound she’s surprised to hear because it’s so unlike him, before he’s sweeping her off her feet and throwing her over his shoulder like she’s a sack of potatoes. 

“Ben-” She doesn’t have a second to protest before he’s running in that superhuman speed of his, the trees blurring so much that the landscape resembles a watercolor painting. 

“Oh,” she gasps. It’s like riding Starkiller.

Except, they are moving ten times faster than Ben’s motorcycle ever could. It makes her dizzy to keep her eyes open, but she doesn’t want to close them. She looks on in pure wonder as her surroundings morph into a hodgepodge of green, brown, and orange.

A hummingbird flies into the tunnel of hyper speed Ben’s created, its wings moving in slow motion. At first, she thinks she’s imagining it, but then she realizes that they’re moving so fast the bird could not keep up. As they pass the creature, she reaches out and taps its feathered head, laughing with childish glee when the bird doesn’t even register the touch.

Too soon, they’ve crossed over the line that separates Maz’s backyard from the forest, and Ben slows, placing her back on the ground. In that moment, their eyes connect, that ever-present spark igniting. His jaw clenches as her feet rest on the solid dirt and his chilly hands tighten on her waist, like he doesn’t want to let her go. 

She doesn’t want him to let her go. She will never want him to let her go. 

Rey opens her mouth to tell him he can touch her all she wants, that this pact of friendship between them is stupid, she's touched his dick for fuck's sake, but it’s too late and he’s put that unbearable distance between them again.

She tries not to let the frustration show on her face.

There’s something unspoken between them, for Ben hasn’t disappeared into the woods yet. She kicks at the ground, frowning when she realizes the dirt has become hard with frost. Another damn sign of winter. “Where were you this week?”

“Camping.”

She sighs, crossing her arms with a pointed look. “What does camping really mean?”

A piranha-like grin flits across his face. “Hunting.”

“Animals?” She asks, because she feels she needs to make sure.

“Animals.” He confirms.

“And you’re done hunting?”

He grants her a vague answer. “For now.”

“So, you’ll be back on Monday?”

He dips his head in that regal way of his, like he's been pulled straight out of a different time. “I’ll be back on Monday.”

Relief sweeps through her, relaxing her shoulders.“I thought maybe you had left. Because I found you out.”

He studies her behind the safety of that indifferent mask. “It would be smart of us, if we left. Maybe I’d be able to leave you alone.”

No.

“Don’t leave,” She blurts, the weight of her words clashing with his nonchalance. 

His face softens, as much as she’d ever seen it soften. “I don't think I could, even if I wanted to.”

“Rey Johnson!”

Oh no.

“Fuck,” she swears under her breath, turning to find Maz storming towards her, Beebee hot on the old woman’s heels. 

“Where the hell have you been, child?” Maz’s voice cracks like a whip, sharp and unyielding. 

“I was just with-” Rey turns back to where Ben was standing and discovers only the solemn tree trunks staring back at her. 

“With whom?”

“No one,” she mutters, reaching down to pick up Beebee. “I just went on a hike, that’s all.”

Maz gives her a suspicious look, her beady eyes, enlarged by her glasses, roaming over Rey like an x-ray. “You better tell me where you’re going next time.”

Beebee nuzzles his face under Rey’s chin. “Yeah, I will. Sorry.”

Maz waves it off, never one to stew in negative emotion longer than necessary. “C’mon, dinner’s ready. I made gumbo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben: We can't be together because I'm a monster and I have fantasies of killing you  
> Rey: I've never wanted a dick so bad in my life!!!! Like shit!!!! If I die, I die!!!! Damn
> 
> Big thanks to EclipseKuran who gave me the inspo for Han to arrest Gil and Seff.
> 
> [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_HZM0QiuUS8) is the song Rey's listening to when Ben arrives. 
> 
> [Keep up with my update schedule](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/updates).
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	14. Baby Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited some photos to show you guys what I imagine the Organas to look like! I'm planning on doing this with all the characters :) 
> 
> [Part 1](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/post/617480716374212608/%F0%9D%9A%83%F0%9D%99%B7%F0%9D%99%B4-%F0%9D%99%BE%F0%9D%9A%81%F0%9D%99%B6%F0%9D%99%B0%F0%9D%99%BD%F0%9D%99%B0%F0%9D%9A%82-%F0%9D%99%BF%F0%9D%9A%8A%F0%9D%9A%9B%F0%9D%9A%9D-%F0%9D%9F%B7-%F0%9D%9A%98%F0%9D%9A%8F-%F0%9D%9A%96%F0%9D%9A%A2-%F0%9D%99%B2%F0%9D%9A%98%F0%9D%9A%95%F0%9D%9A%8D-%F0%9D%99%B5%F0%9D%9A%92%F0%9D%9A%9B%F0%9D%9A%8E-%F0%9D%99%B2%F0%9D%9A%8A%F0%9D%9A%9C%F0%9D%9A%9D%F0%9D%9A%92%F0%9D%9A%97%F0%9D%9A%90-the). 
> 
> [Part 2](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/post/618381769429909504/%F0%9D%9A%83%F0%9D%99%B7%F0%9D%99%B4-%F0%9D%9A%83%F0%9D%99%B4%F0%9D%99%B4%F0%9D%99%BD%F0%9D%99%B0%F0%9D%99%B6%F0%9D%99%B4%F0%9D%9A%81%F0%9D%9A%82-%F0%9D%99%BF%F0%9D%9A%8A%F0%9D%9A%9B%F0%9D%9A%9D-%F0%9D%9F%B8-%F0%9D%9A%98%F0%9D%9A%8F-%F0%9D%9A%96%F0%9D%9A%A2-%F0%9D%99%B2%F0%9D%9A%98%F0%9D%9A%95%F0%9D%9A%8D-%F0%9D%99%B5%F0%9D%9A%92%F0%9D%9A%9B%F0%9D%9A%8E-%F0%9D%99%B2%F0%9D%9A%8A%F0%9D%9A%9C%F0%9D%9A%9D%F0%9D%9A%92%F0%9D%9A%97%F0%9D%9A%90).

With her belly full of Maz’s gumbo (secret family recipe, passed down for generations) and her hair damp from the shower, Rey lays down on her bed and dials Poe’s number.

“Hey, you’ve reached Poe, sorry I can’t come to phone right now-”

Rey snaps the phone shut and crosses her ankles, resting her hands on her stomach and glaring at the ceiling as if it was personally responsible for Poe’s shady behavior.

_ What is going on with him? _

Granted, she hasn’t known Poe for that long, but she considers him a good friend. If kindred spirits were more than a myth, she and Poe were it. It doesn’t matter how long they’ve known each other, he was the first person in her life to see her. To help her with no thought of how it might affect him. To make her feel welcome. To make her feel human, like she's worth something, like she couldn’t be thrown away.

Has she overestimated the strength of their friendship? Does he not care for her the way she cares for him? 

Her past wars with her perception of the present, muddling her thoughts into murky water.  _ No _ , she decides, remembering the way he’d behaved at the beach.  _ He cares about me. We're friends. _

So, why is he acting like this? Her best guess would be that it has something to do with the shop being in danger of closing, but he’d already told her that wasn’t the case and Poe never lies.

Considering all possibilities, Rey plays with the crystal. The weight of it against her skin has become solace, cementing a habit of fiddling with the stone whenever she’s anxious.

Her phone rings, startling her from her pondering.

She fumbles with the device, not looking at the caller ID in her haste to answer.

“Rey?”

Jess. Not Poe. Her heart sinks.

“You there?”

She clears her throat, trying to keep the crushing disappointment from seeping into her tone. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”

A shuddering breath emanates from the other line. 

Rey sits up. “Jess? Are you okay?” Panic coils itself deep in her gut. “What happened? Did they find Keyan-” Her eyes widen. “Oh god, Jess, is he…”

“No, no.” She cuts off Rey’s worried babbling, her voice thick with tears. “They haven’t found him. But my dad is a deputy, and they just came in from patrol and Rey,” her voice drops to a near whisper, “they found bear carcasses near the mountains. They were torn to shreds.”

Her thoughts at once fly to Ben and the rest of the Organas. He said they eat animals. Is this what he meant? 

Jess continues, pace slowing as the flow of her tears increase. “Like, their insides were everywhere. One of them had their fur ripped off, it was just a skeleton.”

Rey doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. When she speaks, she’s careful to keep her voice quiet and calm. “What kind of animal could do something like that?”

“My dad said he’s never seen anything like it. And he grew up in those woods, just like the rest of the deputies. No one knows what it is. Black bears are vicious, what would hunt them?”

Rey can think of one thing. But it would be foolish for them to leave behind evidence. “I-I don’t know, Jess.”

“I can’t stop thinking of Keyan out there all alone. Like, if something can kill a bear it can definitely kill him.” She gives a watery chuckle. “He’s kinda scrawny, ya know.”

Rey smiles, but the expression is tight and lacks joy. “I know.”

“I was gonna ask him to homecoming.” Jess sniffles. “I just wanted to work up to it. I wanted to get my dress first, so we could color coordinate, and now I feel so stupid. I should have just asked him when I had the chance and now it might be too late…”

A fierce surge of protectiveness prompts Rey to sit up straighter. “Listen to me, Jess. It’s not too late. We’ll find him.”

She sounds five years old when she responds. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

☾

Maz had packed her a turkey sandwich for lunch.

Rey always eats any food placed in front of her, a byproduct of her childhood. But now, she looks down, and she can’t lift the sandwich to her mouth, feeling sick to her stomach.

Rey raises her head, glancing over to the Organa’s customary table. Empty. She reassures herself that the lunch period just started, the cafeteria not yet at maximum capacity. Ben would be here. They were friends now.

Friends. She came untouched from a dream about him and they were  _ friends _ . She sighs, regretting her peace offer, wishing she could have taken what she wanted. But Ben is a wild animal. She would have to tame him. Friendship is the first step. Boring, unsexy friendship. 

Better than nothing. Worlds better than the semi-hatred that had existed between them.

She shifts her attention back to her table, noticing that Jess and Kaydel are also picking at their food. None of them have an appetite, the space where Keyan should be screaming for attention. 

Unprompted, Jess buries her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I can’t be here.” She chokes, standing and sprinting from the cafeteria, leaving her lunch untouched. 

Kaydel watches her go, the echo of Jess’ pain reflected in her expression. Rey forgets that the two have known each other as long as they’ve been alive, but in times like these, it it’s glaringly obvious. 

“Go after her,” Rey urges. “She needs you.”

Kaydel hesitates. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Rey shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. Go. I’ll clean up.”

Kaydel gives her a grateful look, gathering Jess’ belongings and her own. “Thank you, Rey.”

Then, she’s chasing after her best friend, their matching backpacks making her gait lopsided, and disappearing into the crowd of students filing into the cafeteria.

Rey’s alone for maybe a millisecond.

“Hi!” Rose Organa slides into Kaydel’s empty seat, graceful as a prima ballerina. Finn pulls out Jess’s chair, lowering his powerful body down and fixing Rey with a beaming grin.

“Where’s Ben?” She asks immediately, fear spiking. What if they were here to say he had left?

“Oh, he’s coming.” Rose leans forward, placing her elbows on the table and propping her chin on her hands. “We wanted to talk to you before he got here.”

She looks between the couple, cornered as she had been weeks ago in the cupcake shop. Since then, they had given her friendly glances here and there, while Rose had taken any opportunity to speak to her. Rey had brushed them off, certain they were making fun of her. The last time she had seen them was at the beach, and that experience only added to the mystery of their motivation.

Now, she figures that Ben told his family she’d discovered their secret. “Look, I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Rose giggles, bubbly and bright. “Oh, we’re not worried about that.”

“You mean,  _ you’re _ not worried about her exposing us.”

Gwen appears behind Finn and Rose, tall, imposing, and so beautiful Rey feels she’s not worthy of being in her presence. Armie stands beside her, shorter, but no less intimidating. If looks could kill, she would be dead meat. She swallows, her throat suddenly dry. Ben wouldn’t kill her, but what about the others?

Rose groans, her tone one of someone who’s tired of repeatedly arguing about the same topic. “She won’t, Gwen. I saw it. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“The future can change. You more than anyone else should know that.” Gwen hisses, her pale blonde waves bouncing with the force of her words. Armie rests a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but she doesn’t seem to register it.

“Back off, Gwen.” Finn’s firm voice is sharp and Gwen swivels to him, her cold eyes flashing hot. 

“I’ve had it with you too, Finn. You would think after everything we’ve been through, you would have some  _ sense _ .”

Finn stares straight past Rey, his gaze resolute, his voice so soft Rey can scarcely make it out. “I have sense, Gwen. It’s what brought us here.”

Gwen’s gorgeous face scrunches in rage, her mouth falling open to assuage Finn with what Rey knows is every insult she could think of.

“Gwen.” Armie warns, stopping the barrage of verbal assaults in the nick of the time.

Rey knows what to look for now, and she sees the force that Armie exerts to tug Gwen away from Rose and Finn. She sees the sheer power just in that one hand. 

It’s mind blowing. This entire conversation is. The Organas are talking about her as if she’s not there and speaking so fast their words barely sound like English. 

_ Where’s Ben? _

Almost as if her thoughts had summoned him, he’s there by her elbow. 

“What’s going on?” He asks, his deep voice deceptively smooth, but by his side, his enormous fists clench. 

“Nothing,” Gwen says, sickly sweet. “We were just chatting about your lovely little Rey.”

Finn sucks on the side of his cheek. “I told her to back off, Ben.”

“All of you back off,” Ben snaps, shocking Rose into a gasp.

“That’s not fair!” Rose whines. “Finn and I just wanted to have a friendly conversation.  _ Gwen _ was the one who ruined it.” She twists her head up and sticks her tongue out at her adoptive sister. The gesture is childish, but Rose makes it work.

Gwen flips her off and Armie snickers.

Rose points at the blonde, facing her boyfriend. “Did you see that?”

Finn gives a world-weary sigh. “Yes, dear.”

“See what I have to put up with?” It takes Rey a moment to realize Rose is speaking to her, but she doesn’t have to bother with formulating a response because, just as quickly, Rose turns to Gwen and the two dissolve into bickering so quiet and fast, their lips aren’t moving. To anyone else, it would look like the two siblings were locked in a staring contest, every now and then supported by a look from one of their boyfriends.

It’s fascinating how human they appear, even as they engage in something inhuman.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to English.” Ben murmurs, right by her ear. “Let’s leave them to it.”

She suppresses a shiver and nods. There’s no use in staying here for the rest of the period, it’s not like she could eat anything. Standing, she packs away her lunch. Rey may not be hungry, but she’ll be damned before she wastes food.

She glances back at the rest of the Organas and their strange argument as she follows the only biological child of Sheriff Han Solo and Dr. Leia Organa from the cafeteria. 

☾

She’s silent as they meander through the hallway, Ben her shadow.

“What are you thinking?”

Rey realizes she’s furrowing her brow. Making a conscious effort, she smoothes the crease. “I was thinking about your family. They’re…” She trails off, searching for a word that could describe the puzzling antics of Ben’s siblings.

“Irritating? Nagging? Intrusive?”

A smile tugs at her lips when she hears the fondness that seeps through Ben’s words. “I was going to say a lot.”

Rey’s sneakers squeak against the linoleum and Ben winces, the movement imperceptible to the human eye. “I apologize on their behalf. They can be…”

“Irritating? Nagging? Intrusive?” She teases, her voice soft.

He grants her a quick quirk of his lips. “Yes.”

She’s preparing to pepper him with more questions about his family, but they arrive at Holdo’s classroom to find it locked and dark. 

Rey peers through the rectangular window. “She must be on break.” She pulls back, discovering Ben’s eyes fixed on her face.

“Want to skip?” He asks suddenly.

☾

They hike through the woods surrounding school. It’s not really raining, but a light fog accompanies the ever-present drizzle. The temperature is nippy; the wind snaking under Rey’s clothes and chilling her skin. Ugh. She hates the cold. 

She bears it for now. They’re alone and Ben seems to be in a better mood than usual, it's worth freezing her ass off. 

She observes him as he leads her to a rocky outcrop, his marble skin glistening with dew, the hard planes of his face cutting a path through the mist. 

He is heartbreakingly beautiful, and her fingers itch to touch.

Ben waits until she’s sat on a flat rock, lowering his body next to hers. He’s still farther away than she would like, but the distance he’s put between them is smaller than before. For that, she’s grateful.

Quiet finds a home between their bodies. It’s a relief to not feel the pressure to speak. Below them, the ocean is an angry mass, the sand black. The waves crash upon the shore, riotous and fierce.

“Why did you come to Forks?”

She tears her gaze from the forlorn nature, focusing on the pebbles under her feet. “Don’t you know? Thought I was the talk of the town.”

“I want to hear it from your point of view.”

Feeling colder all of the sudden, she tucks her hands into her armpits. “My foster father died. The system gave me to Maz. Simple as that.” She braces herself for the inevitable pity, even though Ben must have already been aware of her situation.

Instead, he’s thoughtful. “And you are unhappy here?”

I’m unhappy everywhere. “I don’t love the wet and the cold.” She doesn’t want to talk about this. It only reminds her how little time she has left until she turns eighteen. Until Maz will force her to leave. “But here is better than where I was, I suppose.” She changes the subject, not giving him a chance to pity her. “What about you? Why did your family come here?”

She looks at him, finding him already looking at her. 

He’s silent for a moment, as if he could tell there was something she wasn’t telling him. “Forks is good to us. Plenty of space to hunt, near constant cloud cover-”

That sparks her interest. “You said you had ‘ways’ to protect you from the sun. Couldn’t you live anywhere then?”

Ben hesitates. 

“Oh, c’mon.” Rey laughs, nudging his foot with hers. “We’re friends now, remember? You have to answer my questions.”

Ben draws back from her touch, but it’s slow, an afterthought. “Fine.” He runs a hand through his hair, disrupting the styled waves. “The sun is one of the few things that can kill us. That’s why most of my kind live in remote places.”

Rey nods, happy to hear that the Organas are not alone in their immortality. 

“But, if you know the right people, you can secure one of these.” Ben sticks his hand down the front of his shirt, producing an amethyst crystal dangling from a leather cord. 

Rey gasps, scooting closer. The stone is strikingly similar to the one that hangs around her neck, except for the obvious differences in color and cut. Ben’s crystal is translucent, showing flecks of darker purples and the grain of the stone. She’s tempted to pull out her own and compare, but a tiny voice in the back of her head urges her to keep it hidden. 

Fascinated, she strokes a finger over the smooth surface. “What is it?”

“Protection.” He murmurs. “It stops the sun from killing us, but not from hurting.” He tucks his necklace back in, mirroring the position of Rey’s own. “It makes the pain bearable, but it’s still uncomfortable. Like a low-level shock running through your veins.” He looks around at their gloomy surroundings, his expression as indecipherable as ever. “That’s why we moved here.”

Rey thinks of the Organas on the beach, how it had been the sunniest day in a while and their instinct had been to embrace it, to soak it in, despite the pain they no doubt endured. Her hearts twists. There’s something inexplicably human about that. 

The memory sparks another. “Ben,” she starts, worried how he might respond, but curious nonetheless. “Finn told me, on the beach that-”

“He thinks you can save me.”

She pauses, surprised. “How did you know that?”

“There are no secrets in my family.” Ben laughs, but it’s bitter and self-deprecating, nothing like the joyful sound she’d heard at the hospital. “Well, they have no secrets from me.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, turning her entire body to face him, maneuvering to sit cross-legged on the rock. 

He surveys her with the same hesitant look. She rolls her eyes, ready to push him into telling her, but it seems he’s learned his lesson. “I can read minds.”

That was… the last thing she expected him to say. 

She’s skeptical. The vampire thing, that was easy to accept. She’d seen evidence of his abilities with her own eyes. This, not so much. “You can read minds?” She questions, disbelieving. 

“Yes.”

She waits for him to say he’s joking, but his face remains blank. She crosses her arms. Then uncrosses them. Crosses them again. “Prove it. Tell me what I’m thinking.”

His mouth tightens in something like amusement. “I wish I could.”

She stares at him.

“I have been able to hear every thought of every being I’ve ever come across since my transition. Every. One. Except for you.”

“Me?” She wrinkles her brow. “What’s so special about me?”

“I was hoping you knew.” He leans in, his velvet voice a whisper. “The scent of your blood is intoxicating.” As if he can’t help himself, he noses at her cheek, drawing in a deep breath. She holds very still, her breath shuddering to a halt. After a moment, he pulls away, the effort it takes making his movement slow. She sees him fight a war with his instincts and win, any hint of red around his eyes dissipating. He opens them, the amber pools apologetic. “You’re like a drug, Rey. Tailored to my every fantasy.” He sighs. “But I can’t hear what you’re thinking.”

She scoots back, needing but dreading, distance. When she’s that close to him, she can’t think straight. “Guess you have no proof then.”

“Didn’t you wonder how I found you in Port Angeles?”

She tenses at the mention of that night. “I guess I just assumed it was a coincidence you were there.” Something hardens in his face and she puts two and two together. “Oh my god, did you follow me?”

Rey doesn’t think her tone was that scary, especially to a vampire, but Ben holds his hands up in surrender. “I kept my distance! I was just… around, if you needed me. And you did." His hands drop to his sides. "I heard that asshole's thoughts in English, Rey. I knew what he was going to try, so I warned you away from him.” He chuckles ruefully. "But you didn't listen. I had no choice but to follow you." At least Ben has the good grace to school his expression into an imitation of guilt. He lowers his voice, his tone conveying an intensity that could burn through stars. “I feel very protective of you, Rey."

She blinks, her silence the brewing of a storm. 

“Protective?”

“Rey…”

“Protective?”

She’s so furious, her skin feels tight. She jumps to her feet, pebbles skidding underneath her shoes. Ben remains rigid on the rock, watching her as one would watch an impending train wreck. 

She points at him, because it’s the only thing she can think of doing, her fury radiating from the tip of her finger. “You don’t get to feel protective of me. Not when you've been nothing but an asshole to me since we met.”

His palms raise, attempting to placate her as if she were a rabid dog. “Rey, I said I was sorry.”

“Oh, because sorry makes everything better.” She mutters, kicking at a pebble.

He stands. “I wanted you to stay away from me. What better way to do that than to make you hate me?”

The anger doesn’t leave her, but it gentles. “You would rather I despise you than care for you?”

He glues his eyes to hers. “If it keeps your heart beating, yes.”

She takes a second to process this information, to fit this knowledge within the constraints of Ben. She can't.

“So why did you change your mind?” Her arms flail about, her body looking for an answer. “Why are we friends now? If you’re so sure you’ll kill me?”

She blinks, and he’s right there, tipping her chin up with an ice cold finger. “Because I’m tired of trying to stay away from you.”

She jerks her chin, dislodging his grip, and glares at him. “But you didn’t kiss me back.” It’s a stupid thing to be upset about, but Rey doesn’t care. He rejected her despite his feelings. 

“You will not give up will you?” A wry smile twists his lips. “On trying to have me in every capacity, even though you know it’s not in your best interest.”

She shakes her head, searching for words that could encompass the swell of emotion. Finally, desperately, helplessly, she says, “I don’t want to be your friend, Ben. I don’t know why I said that.” She shrugs, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I guess I just didn’t want you to leave.”

Hesitant but brave, she reaches out and intertwines their fingers. 

“I don’t want to be your friend,” she whispers, brown eyes imploring. 

Ben looks down at their joined hands, and she watches as he observes the contrast between them. Man against woman. Pale against tan and freckled. Dead against alive. Vampire against human. 

His hand goes slack in hers, and she thinks he will pull away. He doesn’t, instead he presses his palms to both of hers. She understands then that their differences fascinate him as much as her.

“Finn said that he thought you could save me from myself.” He slides his fingers into the spaces between hers, curling down. “Did you ever stop to think what that means?”

She copies him, curling her own fingers down over the backs of his large hands. “We all have our demons.”

His gaze is intense, twin amber beams carving a hole in her skull. “I don’t have demons, sweetheart.” He leans in close, breath ghosting at her ear. “I am the demon.” He withdraws, but not far, their noses almost touching. She is conscious of every inch of him, his heady aroma curling like smoke in her lungs. “Still want to be more than friends?”

Ben’s face is hard, formidable and frightening. But, she thinks maybe she’s starting to see beyond the mask because his eyes, his lovely amber eyes, are two festering pits of black despair. Of self-loathing. Of intense, indescribable loneliness.

It makes her want to cry.

Without realizing what she’s doing, she lets go of his hands and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to the place where, if he had a heart, it would be beating. His arms don’t wrap around her, and she can tell she’s shocked him.

Rey says nothing, she just closes her eyes and listens to the sound of his imaginary heartbeat.

Rey remains wrapped around Ben for a short while. Only when she realizes that he won’t hug her back does she withdraw. She fights the ensuing blush, determined not to be embarrassed. Ben is attracted to her, and she is to him. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, even though he continually rejects her advances. 

It’s only because he doesn’t trust his self-control, she tells herself. It’s only because he doesn’t want to hurt me.

A tiny voice in the back of her head, egged on by the ghost of his hand around her neck, whispers that maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if he hurt her a little. 

She worries her lip, stuffing her hands in her pockets and glancing up at Ben’s immovable face. Even though she's stopped embracing him, like the moon in orbit, she is incapable of moving from his gravitational pull. 

“We should head back.” Ben’s words are carved from granite. He turns to go, but her hand darts out and grabs his elbow. 

This should have no effect on him. She is human, inconsequential, nothing compared to Ben and his supernatural abilities. If he wanted, he could throw her off the cliff with the flick of a wrist. Her hand upon him shouldn’t even register, much less inhibit his movement. And yet…

He stops, looking back at her expectantly. 

She didn’t think she would get this far and now it's hard to form the words she wants to say. But Rey is nothing if not brave.

Is brave the right word?

“Ben, will you-” She falters, but presses on, setting her jaw against the doubts. “Will you come to me tonight?”

He frowns. “Come to you?”

“Like, come to my house. My room. Come...see me. Spend time with me.” The words should be effortless, weightless, but it feels like she’s ripped her heart out and placed it, still beating, in Ben’s reluctant hands.

They are nothing to each other.

Or, they should be nothing to each other. Nothing other than physical attraction. There's no logical reason for her words to hang in the air as heavy as they do.

“It’s not a good idea…”

She waits on the head of a pin, for him to either let her heart continue to beat or to crush it to smithereens.

A sigh, a sigh as a soldier would give at the end of a long and bloody war he never wanted to fight, and then-

“All right, Rey. I’ll come to you.”

☾

Maz is waiting on her porch, her lined face drawn, when Rey and the rusty yellow bike come to a rolling stop. She needs to install those new parts so the truck could run, and she has half a mind to start that project now. So many distractions... Keyan’s continued absence, Poe’s strange behavior, Jess’ wavering mental health, Bastet’s crystal and confusing message... but none of that holds a candle to Ben Solo: the ultimate distraction. The expression on Max’s face and the knowledge that Ben would visit later are the only things that keep her from steering the bike into the garage and staying wrench deep in the motor until the truck ran like a dream.

Her throat constricts. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Rey, I don’t want you hiking anymore.”

She dismounts, letting the bicycle thud to the gravel and climbing the creaky wooden stairs to where her foster mother stands with a crocheted shawl draped across rounded shoulders, her strong hands claws around a steaming mug of tea.

Maz’s comfort food. 

For the first time since Rey's met her, Maz looks the age illustrated by her grey hair and crow’s feet.

It’s disconcerting to see the vivacious old woman devoid of color. “Why not?” 

“The sheriff and a couple deputies found a group of mountain lions with their entrails ripped out and eaten, their corpses torn to shreds.” Maz lifts the mug to her lips, the steam fogging up her tortoiseshell glasses. Under any other circumstances, Rey would find it comical. 

She sucks in a breath. “Jess said that same thing happened but with a bunch of bears.”

Behind the fogged lenses, Maz’s beady eyes bore into hers. “When did this happen?”

Rey tenses at the abrupt change in Maz’s demeanor. The old woman’s voice is harsh and cutting, nothing like the calming melody Rey has grown accustomed to. It makes her feel like she’s done something wrong. “I don’t know, a couple days ago? Her dad was looking for Keyan and he found the carcasses.”

“And they had their insides torn out?”

Rey nods.

Maz swears, the mug slipping from her hands and shattering into a dissembled puzzle of rainbow clay upon the porch floor. Unsure of how to react, Rey freezes.

Expecting Maz to gather up the shards, Rey’s surprised when the woman, in a rustle of multicolored linen skirts, steps over the remnants of the cup, and seizes Rey by the front of her jacket.

Maz’s grip is powerful. It doesn’t hurt, but it forces Rey up on her tip toes. Damn, do they put something in the town’s water supply to make everyone stronger than they appear?

“Don’t you dare go into the woods alone ever again, child. You understand?” 

Rey bites the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Who does Maz think she is, telling Rey what she can and can’t do? She’s grateful for the woman’s kindness, but Rey answers to no one but herself.

Deep down, she thinks that maybe she would listen to Ben. If he wasn’t being a stupid asshole. Not wanting to deal with the implications of this discovery, Rey shoves that thought to the graveyard where all her emotions are left to rot. 

“Do you understand me Rey?” 

She should at least tell Maz what she wants to hear. Adults can always be reassured with lies, even if they’re aware of the falsities.

“Yeah, Maz. I understand. No more hikes.” 

Maz sighs, the fight rushing out of her all at once. “Good. Now go get a broom and clean this up.”

☾

She’s pacing the length of her room, the silver cell phone clutched in her hands in case Jess or Kaydel call with news of Keyan. Or Poe calls to tell her he’d bumped his head and was experiencing temporary personality switch disorder. Entertaining, but unlikely. 

On her pillows, Beebee’s jade eyes snap back and forth with her erratic pivots, like he’s watching a tennis match.

Tap tap.

Rey swivels to the window, her mouth going dry at the outline of Ben perched on the ledge. For a heartbeat, she wonders how he could be so stupid (he’s the size of a small mountain, no way is he not going to fall) before she remembers. She drops her phone on the desk as she passes it on the way to the window, unlatching the lock and groaning with the effort needed to shift the paneled glass. Maz’s house isn’t exactly new and her window rarely sees any action, cementing the glass opening closed. She cracks it, the most she can do, before Ben’s hands slide under and push hers out of the way.

With no struggle at all, Ben opens the sticky window and his muscled frame glides through the cramped space with a grace that would not be possible if he were human. Silently, he lands on his feet and rises to his full height. Rey’s room is spacious, but his presence makes it claustrophobic. He’s entered her bedroom much like he’d entered her life: by elegantly obliterating her perceived reality with no warning. 

Ben’s done nothing more or less than what she’d asked of him, but her blood boils. How dare he be so perfect, so unattainable?

“You know you could be quieter.” She snaps, brushing past him and putting her attention on attempting to close the window. “Maz is downstairs.” With an overzealous heave, Rey concentrates her strength into her forearms, but the window still doesn’t budge. 

Her heart leaps into her throat when he looms behind her. Cursing, she shoves at the window, the mesmerizing spell of him making her frantic. Her body feels too small, too insignificant to contain the magnitude of energy he provokes within her. The window bears her attack with dignity, its wooden lines unyielding. Frustrated beyond belief, the scent of him overpowering her higher thinking, she smacks the frame, wincing as the peeling paint scrapes against her palm. 

“Here, let me.” Ben’s voice is like gravel. She observes, motionless like a rabbit on its hind-legs, as his toned arms snake around her to shut the window. 

“Thanks.” She mutters, ducking out of the mockery of embrace and crossing to the other side of the room. Strange how Ben activates both parts of her flight or fight response. Being around him, even at a distance, is almost too much. Good thing he’s committed to his no touch rule because how would she ever survive prolonged physical contact? Her organs would melt to irreversible mush and she’s pretty sure she needs functioning intestines to live.

His forehead creases. “Rey?”

She doesn’t answer because, with a fierce yowl, Beebee launches himself, claws outstretched, at Ben’s head. 

“Beebee, no!” Rey shouts, horrified. She rushes to the matted mass of writhing orange fur that occupies the space where Ben’s face should be, yanking at the cat’s midriff just as Ben pushes, sending her and the tabby toppling backward. With a thunk, Rey lands on the ground, the sound echoing throughout the entire house. Beebe squirms in her arms, meowing at the top of his lungs. Desperately, Rey tries to quiet him, but the damage is done.

Ben’s eyes widen. “Maz,” he whispers. He disappears into her bathroom, closing the door behind him with an inaudible click.

Less than a second later, Maz sticks her head in. She frowns when she sees Rey on the floor, clutching an aggravated Beebee. “What’s going on here?”

Breathless, she squeezes her arms to constrain Maz’s pet. “I don’t know. He just went crazy.”

Suspicious, Rey’s foster mother casts a sweeping look around the bedroom. Everything must check out because she clucks in disapproval, lifting Beebee into her arms. “What’s wrong, hmm? It’s only Rey. You like Rey, you silly little creature.” In Maz’s grasp, Beebee quiets at once, his angry sounds taming to a rumbling purr. Maz tsks, scratching behind his ears in the way he likes. “Best I take him with me. Good night, Rey.”

“Good night.” She says as Maz leaves. Just before the doors swing shut, Beebee’s eyes find her and he hisses in what sounds like a threat. 

She waits until Maz’s footsteps recede before she stands, brushing off her jeans. She doesn’t hear the bathroom door open, but the subtle shift in the air lets her know that Ben has materialized. He doesn’t approach her and the space between them is vast. She takes a second to realize that this time she has drawn the line.

“Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over him. He never acts like that.” Rey stares at a point somewhere above Ben’s head. Looking at him does something weird to her chest, her stomach, her head... her whole body, actually. 

Lust is a funny thing.

Ben says nothing, his unblinking amber eyes brimming with inscrutability. 

“You should be more careful, anyway.” She brushes her hair out of her face, the fight part of her instincts spiking. “I mean, killing all those mountain lions and bears and leaving them in plain sight is pretty stupid for a coven full of vampires pretending to be human.”

Ben blinks for the first time since he entered her bedroom. “What?”

She rolls her eyes, plopping herself down on her bed with a huff. “Don’t play dumb, Ben. You told me your family eats animals. What else could rip apart a mountain lion?” She crosses her ankles and leans back against the headboard as Ben approaches, confusion marring the masterpiece of his aristocratic features.

He comes to stand at the foot of her bed and she notices beads of rainwater sticking to the black leather of his jacket. His wavy hair, similarly colored, is curling at the ends, frizzing with dampness in a way that is painfully endearing.

She swallows. 

“We hunt big game like that, yes. But we drink from them, we don’t need their meat.”

“Oh.” That makes sense. She should have thought of that before she accused him. “Then what’s killing the animals?”

“How do you even know about this?”

“Jess’s dad is a deputy. She told me.” Unconsciously, she glances at the silver cellphone sitting innocently on her desk.

Ben grunts. “She shouldn’t be spreading confidential police information.”

Rey’s eyebrows raise. “You knew about this?”

His lips twitch. “My father is the sheriff, remember?”

Going stiff as a board with anticipation, Rey bends forward. “So, what’s going on? What’s killing them?”

“We don’t know. It is... a mystery.” He moves, padding slowly about her room, trailing his fingertips over the surfaces of her desk, her dresser, her wardrobe. 

Her eyes track his movements because that’s what her eyes have taken to doing ever since she met him. “Could it be other vampires?”

“Perhaps, but it’s unlikely. We are the only coven for miles.“ He pauses at the side of her bed, surveying the blue backpack. She tenses as he fingers the worn straps, and she worries he’ll make a snide comment about the state of the material. Her shoulders droop with relief when instead he says, “No posters?”

“What?”

He waves a hand, gesturing to the sparseness of the bedroom. “You have no decor. Nothing that shows who you are, what you like.” His tone isn’t reproachful, eyes holding nothing but curiosity. 

She looks at him as if he’s dumb. “I’m a foster kid.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, it is. Ben, I-” She breaks their eye contact, looking down at her hands. “I’ve never had anything that’s mine.” Her voice sours, warping into something dark and bitter. “I guess it’s made minimalism my personality.”

“And yet, you hold on to this backpack.” She glances up to find the worn bag dangling from one of Ben’s long fingers. “You bring it with you everywhere. You keep it on your bedside table.” He rattles his observations off like an archaeologist with an unfamiliar type of bone, like he's been searching for this radical discovery his entire life and now he’s seconds away from screaming eureka! “Why?”

He’s being too much again, demanding too much of her. She will give him anything he asks for, but not this. Not her past. She rises, taking the bag from Ben and placing it on the floor of her wardrobe. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Drained of life, she slumps on the edge of the bed. Is this how it will always be? Thinking I’m fine until something happens to remind me?

The toes of Ben’s combat boots appear in her vision, centimeters from her bare feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I just want to figure you out, Rey.”

Full of careful hesitation, he tilts her head up. His touch is feather-light. It's as if she's a fragile porcelain doll, like one sudden movement, one lapse in concentration, would be all it took for her to shatter.

Begrudgingly, she supposes that there is truth in that assessment. To him, her breakable quality must be frightening in its strength. 

Suspended in time, they don’t move, until her lips part and splinter the stillness. Ben’s eyes drift down, the amber ores burning black with unbridled passion. “Stay very still, Rey. I want to try something.”

Without any more preamble, he slants his cold mouth over hers, where she’s warm and waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note about my update schedule: 
> 
> This is the first full length fic I've written and I'm learning that every chapter is different in terms of how much energy and time it takes for me to write! It's really hard to predict how many days it will be until the next chapter is finished, so for all intents and purposes, my update schedule is an **approximation**. 
> 
> That being said, **I'll always try to post the next chapter no more than three days after the initial date I put on the previous chapter**.
> 
> Things are really hectic right now and I don’t always end up having as much time to write as I initially thought I would when I posted a chapter. Please check my update schedule (linked below) for the exact date of a new chapter! It's the best place to find out when I'll post! If there're changes to the orginal date I listed, I'll always update the schedule with the new date. :)
> 
> I want to thank everyone for being patient with me as I figure out my writing style, I'll get better with time and practice. ❤️
> 
> [Keep up with my update schedule](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/updates).
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> My [tumblr](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/).


	15. Hot and Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MADE A TWITTER! 
> 
> I'll link it in the end notes. I'm going to try to be as active on there as I am on tumblr, so it'll be a great place to reach me and keep up with my fic schedule. 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely bensreys on twitter who beta'd this chapter!!

She doesn’t know what comes over her- the effect of his willing kiss on her psyche is instantaneous and uncontrollable. 

Tangling her fingers in his luscious hair, the most human part about him, she surges forward and molds her mouth to his with an eager noise in the back of her throat. Her hands wrap around his neck and she yanks him down to her level, his broad back bending like a willow in the wind as her legs spread to trap his knees. Victorious, she shoves her tongue down his throat; he tastes as good as he smells; she needs more, _more, more, more_ -

With a muffled gasp, Ben thrusts her back, propelling himself to the far corner of her room where he cowers in a way reminiscent of Beebee. Sinking back on her elbows, she feels much like she had in the meadow after he’d released her. She can’t breathe right, ardent want rendering her vision fuzzy. Her chest heaves with the effort it takes to draw in air.

In direct contrast to how he reacted when she kissed him in the meadow, Ben is full of motion, _animated_ for lack of a better word. He’s shaking, his chest rising and falling more vigorously than hers, although he requires no oxygen. His eyes are wild and his pink mouth, turned cherry red from her kisses, is flapping like a fish. Rey even swears splotches of color stain his cheeks. 

For an instant, overcome by what is either desire, thirst, or a mixture of both, Ben is human. 

The illusion fades as swiftly as it came, nothing more than a trick of the light made reality by wishful thinking. His fingers grapple for purchase along the walls, his blunt nails scraping at the green paint. 

“Stop that!” She commands hoarsely. “Don’t ruin Maz’s house.”

Slamming his eyes shut, he goes rigid. Ever so slowly, he rises from his crouch, his arms coming to rest at his sides. As his fists uncurl, his eyes open, and they are flat, lifeless, at odds with the fire that’d burned there not even five minutes ago. “This was a mistake. I must go.”

“Wait!” She cries, careful to not raise her voice above a whisper lest she alert Maz to her visitor. He stops with one leg out the window- will she ever get used to his lightning quick movements?- but he doesn’t face her.

“I’m sorry. Stay, Ben.” She sits up, scooting to the head of the bed and tucking her legs underneath her. Patting the other pillow in modest invitation, she pleads. “Please. I won’t touch you. I’ll behave.”

He sighs, long and drawn-out, and she braces herself for his disappearance. In less than a heartbeat, the window is once again closed, and he’s beside her, propped against the headboard, muscular legs stretched out in front of him. Rey snickers. In his endeavor to stay as far away from her as possible, he’s hanging off the edge of the bed. Not falling is no easy feat- she hadn’t realized how tiny her bed was until Ben’s giant form occupied it. 

He crosses his arms over his chest, the leather of his jacket creaking silently. “You don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I am…” A muscle works in his defined jaw. “Not as strong as I think I am.”

“You’re stronger than you know.” Rey insists. “Your fangs didn’t extend and there’s no reddish ring around your eyes.”

Ben glances at her, stunned. He lifts a finger to his upper lip, poking at his right canine, currently at an unassuming human sharpness. In a flash, he darts to her bathroom and back. She assumes he went to look in the mirror.

“The venom didn’t rise!” He shouts soundlessly. Ben pumps a fist in the air, childlike in his unabashed glee. Zipping around her room, the shape of him blurs into a whirlwind of black and grey tones, reminding Rey of a cartoon Central Phoenix Elementary School once showed during recess on a rare rainy day.

The name returns to her. She snaps her fingers. “The Tasmanian Devil.”

Ben materializes, close enough that he isn’t falling off the bed anymore, but still far enough for her to miss him despite her contempt for frigid temperatures. “What about the Tasmanian Devil?”

His sweet-smelling breath fans across her face, incapacitating her ability to think. “Hmm?” She says, dazed by the impossible perfection of him.

He laughs, and even though the sound is brief and nearly silent, Rey perks up. It pales in comparison to his carefree laughter the day he’d saved her from Keyan’s truck, but it’s the closest he’s come to reproducing that sound in her presence. 

“What about the Tasmanian Devil?” Ben’s velvet voice is atypical in its lightness, and it takes her a second to realize he’s teasing. 

She jerks herself from the dazzling haze he’s spun around her. “Nothing, you just reminded me of that cartoon. When you were dancing about.”

“ _Dancing about?_ ” He throws his head back, laughter spilling from his throat in harmonious melody. Unbidden, she laughs too, grin threatening to split her face in half. While Ben is still laughing at a low volume, Rey forgets, and she claps a hand over her mouth before she disturbs Maz. “I remind you of a Looney Tunes character?”

“Not all the time!” She protests. “Just now, when you were-” she waves a hand for emphasis- “doing your vampire super speed.”

The both of them dissolve into silent chuckling at her words.

She squints. “You’ve seen Looney Tunes?” She can’t imagine this beautiful creature sitting down to watch Daffy Duck. The image doesn't compute. 

Ben rolls his eyes. “I’m an immortal being. I was a part of pop culture _before_ pop culture.”

It’s the first time he’s acknowledged anything about his vampirism, other than the obvious, and Rey sobers at once. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

She narrows her eyes. “How long have you been eighteen?”

He looks away, his good humor fading. “Do you really want to know?”

She nods, answering honestly before she can think better of it. “I want to know everything about you, Ben.” After this earnest admission, the hangnail on her left thumb becomes incredibly interesting.

He is slow to reply, and Rey, never one for patience, fidgets, worried she may have said too much. “I was born in Pennsylvania in 1844.”

_1844._

“So that puts you at…”

“One hundred and sixty-five years old.”

She lets out a low whistle. “Dermatologists must hate you.”

His head snaps back to hers, his gaze sharp. "I tell you I'm one hundred and sixty-five years old and you crack a joke?"

"Would you rather I ran away screaming?"

"It would be easier if you did."

Looks like Asshole Ben has made a reappearance.

"I hate when you do that, you know. Act hot and cold."

“I said it would be easier if you stayed away, not that I want you to.” He sweeps the tips of his fingers across her cheekbone, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. As he does so, he brushes the sensitive skin behind her ear. The iciness of his hand sends her nerve endings into a frenzy. 

Rey gulps.

“What do you think?” He murmurs with eyes of liquid gold. “Shall we try again? Now that I know I won’t kill you?”

“You thought you would kill me when you kissed me?” She knows she should be at least mildly angry, but it’s hard with him so close, with him touching her, with his scent a heavy cloud in the air. 

“Oh, Rey. How many more ways can I emphasize that your death at my hands is always a possibility?” Too slow, he’s leaning closer, his gaze fixed upon her lips.

“You make it easy to forget about that fact.”

“Funny. You make it easy to forget-” Rey closes the gap between their mouths, tired of this game they’re playing. Ben can finish his sentence later. Right now, nothing is more important to her than kissing him. 

Like before, her kiss becomes insistent, almost vicious in its strength. But as her hands come up to tangle in the hair at Ben’s nape, his hands have already formed icy handcuffs around her wrists. He gentles their kiss, coaxing her from a frenzied lust into a lazy tranquility by placing a big hand in the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. The motion may subdue the craze of passion, but it does nothing to quell the erratic beating of her heart or the feeling that her skin is too hot and too tight. 

To her dismay, the kiss becomes chaste, and he pulls away, his hand remaining. He trails it down, splaying his fingers across the place where her heart is struggling to beat out of her ribcage. She tries not to think about the fact that if he shifted his touch just a hair lower, his entire hand would cover the expanse of her left breast. It hadn’t bothered her before, but now she is hyper aware that all she’s wearing is a tank top and flannel pajama pants. The coldness of his hand on her bare skin doesn’t change the direction of her thoughts, and her nipples pebble underneath the thin grey cotton.

His amber eyes turn a dark topaz. 

“What?” She intends to be indignant, but her nervous system hasn’t recovered from his kiss or his continued touch, so any bite to her words is undone by the breathy quality of her voice.

He shakes his head. “Nothing, just-” His palm presses harder against her collarbone, his eyes softening and slipping closed. “I like the sound of your heart.” He sighs, free and uncharacteristically peaceful.

She inhales sharply as he begins to stroke her skin.

“You have no idea how incredibly frustrating it is to not be able to hear what you’re thinking.” He hums. “But I’m glad your body gives me hints.”

Ben’s eyes drift open, and he smirks at the sight of her nipples straining against their fabric cage. With him looking at her like that, she’s going to do something he probably wouldn’t approve of. Rey racks her brain for a new topic. Anything, to distract herself from his gaze, from the marvelous sensation of his skin against hers. 

“What were you going to say before I kissed you?”

Ben doesn’t look at her, focused on tracing the hollow at the base of her throat with a slim finger. “You said I make it easy to forget the fact that I want to kill you. That’s in my nature to kill you. You make it easy to forget what I am. With you I feel…almost human again.” 

The side of his mouth twitches ruefully. “Strange how you can make me feel like that, when I have never thirsted for someone’s blood more. You’re a paradox, Rey Johnson.” He frowns, contemplative. “You seem never to have the normal human reactions.”

She stares at the slope of his nose, admiring its steep angle, and _does not look_ at his large hand against her throat. “What do you mean?”

“In Port Angeles. After-” The hand not touching her clenches on her bedspread. “You weren’t affected by what those men had tried to do to you.”

What is it with Ben tonight? Why is he trying to make her relive her past? “I don’t know why that was.” She mumbles. If she wanted, she could psychoanalyze her childhood and uncover a million reasons why traumatic events don’t faze her anymore, but she would rather rip out her teeth with pliers and eat them. Ben starts to intervene, to berate her with more questions, but she stops him in his tracks, her voice cutting. “It doesn’t matter now anyway. They’re locked up. Drug charges.”

Ben glowers. “They deserve a fate infinitely worse.”

The dark wistfulness of his expression sets the gears in her mind churning. “Did you have something to do with their arrest?” 

His father is the sheriff, after all. 

“I couldn’t do to them what I really wanted, so I had to settle.” His face tightens into something predatory, and he withdraws, lacing his fingers together. 

Mourning the loss of physical contact, Rey shifts her entire body to face him, pulling her knees up and resting her chin in the valley between them. This way, her traitorous nipples will hopefully get themselves under control.

She doesn’t ask what he wanted to do to Gil and Seff because she already knows. Ben was the one who saved her and she’d seen his bloodlust firsthand. 

“I wish you had done it.”

It’s only when his widening eyes jolt to hers that she’s aware she said that out loud. He doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at her in shock. 

Rey shrugs defensively. “You said yourself that they deserved it.”

Ben looks at her in disbelief and maybe wonder. He shakes his head, breath whooshing out, as he grapples for a response. He comes up empty in the verbal sense and simply brushes his fingertips across her cheek. 

“I should go.” He says, but he looks like he’d rather do anything else. “It’s getting late.”

“Need some beauty sleep?” She banters lightly.

A shadow passes over his face. “I don’t sleep.”

She blinks. “Like at all?”

“Not since I turned.” There’s a quality to his voice she’s not used to hearing, it’s unfamiliar in his deep cadence but the tone is one echoed in everything she says. Sadness.

Her heart aches. She would take Asshole Ben over Sad Ben any day. “Well, then you can stay!” 

He smiles ruefully. “I think we’ve tested my self-control enough for today.”

Before she can protest, he’s straddled her windowsill, one arm propping up the window as he heads out. He looks back at her as he starts to duck, quelling her fear that he wouldn’t say goodbye. “Good night, Rey.”

“Good night, Ben.”

After he leaves, she stares at the window for an indeterminable amount of time. She’s hyper aware of him in his presence, but whenever he’s gone, it’s so easy to think he’d only been a dream. 

Sighing, she rolls over to her nightstand and opens the drawer. The opaline crystal glitters in the lamplight as she lifts the necklace over her neck. For why she’d taken it off when Ben was coming over, why she hadn’t shown it to him when he’d revealed his, she has no explanation. It was nothing more than base instinct that prompted her to keep the jewel hidden and it’s nothing more than base instinct that prompts her now.

As if her body is being controlled by some other power, she raises the crystal and blows on it, using the condensation to wipe a thumb across its cut surface. 

Rey lets on an audible gasp. There, under a thin layer of dust, is an ornate letter carved into the milky stone. 

_D._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fact that people care about this fic...and get excited when I update...and are invested in what's going on...I'm crying :')
> 
> Friendly reminder that this fic takes place in 2009, in case anyone did the math on Ben's age. 
> 
> [Keep up with my update schedule](https://sandhateclub.tumblr.com/updates).
> 
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